The Trouble with Horses
by griffonnage
Summary: This is a cross between Daniel Boone and William Faulkner’s short story “Spotted Horses”. It is set at the end of Season Two and explains Yadkin’s absence.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Cincinnatus Jones hugged his broom and ruminated on the state of his world in 1776. There was that pesky war with England, but it was far away and out of mind. The proprietor of the Boonesborough trading post was happy. Well…almost happy -- his Puritan conscious annoyed him with that tired old chant "pride goeth before destruction..." He glanced about cautiously with darting eyes. Had he died in the night and awoke in heaven? Heaven was the fresh scent of his newly planed and sanded puncheon floor. Heaven was the setting sun's ginger rays spread across his tavern's doorway like a golden crown upon the newly exposed wood—which just the week before was hidden by two years of ground-in frontier offal. He took that as evidence that he was a righteous upright man deserving of his awards—some might think him a mere fur peddler--but he was a fair one.

Stirred to share his inner bliss like a mule released from his burden is want to kick up his hind legs, the wiry proprietor leapt into the air and clicked his heels. He danced a spritely jig with his broom as he swept the last of the sawdust out the door. His audience, a few people supping in the tavern, chuckled and applauded; the dancer turned and bowed deeply. He would have rummaged for his fiddle in the storeroom and continued the impromptu celebration but for a bellowed announcement from the palisade wall.

"Buckboard and critters approachin'!"

The merchant was distracted from his moment of glorious mercantile satisfaction. He hobbled across the fort yard and peered with one eye through a crack in the gate to take a quick look-see.

Behind a mule-drawn buckboard a parade of spritely colorful critters swayed, jumped, and jolted like a kite string in the tall Kentucky grass. The unknown driver wore a wide-brimmed felt hat and city clothes-- matching coat, vest, britches and glossy leather boots. The other feller with the long-legged gait that walked along side was no stranger. He wore buckskin from head to toe and a cocked hat adorned with a bodacious feather.

"Well I do believe it's Carolina E. Yadkin," someone hollered. "Best find Dan'l Boone. Looks like Yad's back and he's draggin' trouble behind him."

Men scrambled to open the tall wooden gates. Yadkin swaggered into the fort yard. He doffed his feathered hat and revealed his unruly prodigious blond hair. "Howdy!"

"Howdy, Yad," Meely Beckum yelled. "Long time no see. What's ya got out there?"

Yad's sun-tanned face lit up with a gracious moustache-crowned grin. "Meeley, don't you know a horse when you see one?"

The clump of critters became horses tethered to a single rope that led off the back of the wagon. The idle fort occupants filled the gate opening, hands in pockets, mouths catching flies, taken a gander at what reckless Yad had dragged in.

The festive ruckus in the fort yard drew Daniel Boone and his son, Israel, from their supper in the tavern.

"Yad!" Israel yelled as he bolted on his short legs like a rat-terrier towards the lofty newcomer. The boy leapt from the ground into the man's arms. Israel wept with joy for he hadn't seen his kindred spirit in a year.

"Glory be, youngin', you've gotten bigger since I last lifted ya."

"Yad, is that really you?" Daniel asked wide-eyed astonished at the apparition before him.

Daniel's best friend still filled his clothes like a buck fills his own skin, but for the tell-tale sign of four or five worn belt holes in the hitched belt that half hung at his waist.

"Howdy, Dan'l," the trapper said sheepishly. The familiar impish blue eyes sparkled.

A slow crooked grin crept across Daniel's face. "We thought a b'ar got ya."

"Oh." Yadkin let Israel slide to the ground. The tearful boy kept his arms gripped about the trapper's middle like he might up and disappear again. "Might be I oughta explain--"

"Later." Daniel clamped his arms around his prodigal friend and swallowed him in a big bear hug as only Daniel Boone could do. "It's good to see ya—alive."

Cincinnatus stood nearby with his arms akimbo, scratching his whiskers and shaking his head. "Here I've been thinkin' I lost my best connoisseur of flip and have plumb forgot how to make it. If you help me Yad, I'll brew up a batch."

Yadkin's thick curled moustache rose up at the edges in a big toothy chipmunk grin. "Surely 'Natus, but first I gotta bed down the livestock. Ya'll still have that pen on the west side o' the fort?"

"Yep," the tavern keeper said. "The rails might need a little pickin' up as there ain't been nothin' in it since Rancey's old bull kicked out and bolted. Haven't seen hide or hair of him since."

"Rancey or the bull," Yad asked with a grin.

"I'm still here, Yad, and you still owe me five," a burly voice yelled from the wall. The growing crowd at the gates jittered with laughter but kept their attention on the motley circus outside.

"Well, howdy, Rance," Yad shouted. "I ain't forgot that five." He turned back to Cincinnatus. "I'm gonna borrow that pen awhile if that's all right."

"Sure. What's you got out there, Yad?"

"Why, just the finest horseflesh this side of the Mississippi." Yadkin winked at his old flip-drinkin' hucksterin' partner--a gesture Cincinnatus knew well as an invitation to trouble. The old tavern keeper sighed in resignation as he pulled at the whiskers on the bottom of his chin. Heaven would have to wait-- Yad was back.

With Israel attached at his hip, Yadkin pushed his way through the crowd at the gate and disappeared. The fort gawkers followed.

Cincinnatus eyed Daniel. "What's ya think he's up to, Dan'l? You gonna go see?"

The big frontiersman furrowed his brow and shook his dark head. "Don't know, but I best go warn Becky that Yad's back."

* * *

Meely, Rancey and J.D. helped Yad replace the fallen railings about the split-rail enclosure with Cincinnatus supervising. Other Boonesborough men--a mix of farmers, trappers, traders and ne'r-do-wells--stood around gaping at the proceedings.

With the pen secure, Yad pulled off some rails to make an opening then motioned for the teamster. The buckboard made a wide circle bringing the critters abreast of the rough pen so everyone present had a good look at 'em.

They were horses, on the small side. An assorted lot of sweet natured lambs on hoof that'd as soon kill a man as look at him. They jumped, kicked, jittered, and yanked on their ropes. Roped they were, like goats trussed up by a child. For sure, they wanted to be somewhere else and had not signed up willing for the walk.

Grungy J.D. asked, "What the blazes is Yad up to?"

"Looks to me like he's gone into the horse peddlin' business," lanky Meeley drawled as he gnawed on a blade of switchgrass. "We best warn the new folk. That Yadkin can sell-up an Injun on his last wampum bead."

It was the time of the year people around Boonesborough had money in their pockets for buying seed. Cincinnatus glanced nervously over the assembled crowd. "I'd sooner buy a jack-rabbit to ride. You men surely aren't thinkin' about puttin' your seed money in Yad's pocket for one o' those critters?"

"You think Yad owns 'em?" bearded heavyset Rancey bellowed. "Yad never owned nothin' in his life but his huntin' gear and he was likely not to own that on any given day. I bet that fancy feller drivin' the buckboard owns 'em. Who's he?"

Cincinnatus stroked his grizzled chin and studied the driver. The driver glanced at the gathered men but looked at none of them. About that time, bandy-legged Heck Stokeburn came struttin' up. "Maybe ole Heck here knows who owns those ponies."

"Nope," Heck yelped as he crossed over and leaned back on a railing. "Wonder how Yad got them critters tied up like that." He pulled his felt hat down low to keep the setting sun from his beady gray eyes.

"Mores the wonder how he's gonna get 'em untied," Meeley said.

Yad hoisted Israel from the ground like a flour sack and deposited him onto the buckboard.

"Ya'll watch yourselves," Yad drawled, "these ponies can be as gentle as kittens but they've had a long walk and are a bit touchy--"

A horse kicked his hind legs and thumped Yad on the hip. "Yowl!" the brawny horse handler yelled as he returned the favor with a kick on the horse's rump. "You yellow-bellied, hay-burnin' idle-brained idjut, get on there." Yad slapped his hat against the animal's side then threw out his arms like a great grizzly. The horses backed away snorting and stomping backwards towards the corral pulling the wagon with them. "Yaw, yaw."

The spectators scrambled as the beasts were not inclined to enter their pen without a fight. The horses stomped, jumped and jerked the rope that bound them but they would not gain ground. Yad broke off a long branch from a nearby willow tree and slapped at the horses' noses like he was swatting flies. "They'll settle down after they've been worked a bit."

A sharp whip crack snapped the air making everyone jump. The horses moved back hurriedly. They jerked the wagon violently pulling it halfway into the pen. The driver caught hold of the wagon seat to keep from toppling backwards. Israel rolled like a ball into the mound of hay that covered the buckboard bed.

"Yadkin, it is astonishing to see you again in such good health."

Yadkin grinned and glanced at the Cherokee who was coiling his whip methodically. "Howdy, Mingo. Yeah, I heard of my demise. Wisht I'd a known. I might've grieved for myself.

"Where did you find that many four-legged friends to purchase? I thought there was a shortage due to the war." Mingo said with a smile.

Yad apparently didn't hear Mingo's question or didn't want to answer it.

Daniel strode up. He grabbed his son off the open buckboard and placed him feet first on the ground.

Israel put his hands on his hips and stuck out his diminutive chest. "Pa, I gotta help Yad with them critters."

"Your Ma said to send you home for bath and bed."

"Ah, Pa…" the boy grumbled as he turned about and stomped his booted foot on the ground. He stood defiant for a moment before he turned his head to say, "Yad, I'll be back to help ya tomorrow bright and early." Then he scampered down the shade-dappled river trail towards home.

Yad grumbled out of the side of his mouth, "They're a bit skittish 'cause they ain't been rode…in a while."

Rancey asked, "Since when have they been rode?"

"Ah-um," handsome Mose grunted as he sauntered up, "let me guess. When they crossed the Cumberland on a ferry a few days back?" The men around the pen chuckled.

The forgotten wagon driver turned his head to see how his load fared; the sun illuminated his visage like a big orange pumpkin. Cincinnatus recognized the flat-nosed pudgy-jowled face. "Why if it ain't Strom Stokeburn. "Yad since when do you keep company with a Stokeburn?"

Yad looked around nervously first at Cincinnatus, then at Daniel. The latter studied Strom with a penetrating gaze. "Ah..well--"

"You think you're gonna sell that wild horse flesh 'round here?" Mose asked.

"Mose, these horses can handle the terrain better than mules," Yadkin replied, "and they're twice as eager. Don't ya'll believe they're gentle?"

"Gentle as wild-cats," Mose mumbled. "Their eyeballs are rollin' around in their sockets like they're unhitched from their brains."

"I'll prove it to you," Yad drawled.

The former trapper strolled to the rear of the clumped-up horses. The herd watched him as he ambled by. Some kicked, but he dodged the hooves. When he reached the last horse now standing in the pen, he yanked his knife from its sheath at his back. "Come here, little doggie."

The bold horse-handler grabbed the horse's nostrils and twisted it's head violently; his other arm circled the horse's neck and closed down like a vice. The horse wheezed and snorted trying to catch its breath.

The animal threw it's head down and whipped it's backend in a vicious coil that swung Yad off the ground. The man hung on for the ride; his neck muscles showed the strain--like rope pulled taut. He slid his knife up and cut the rope that held the horse to the tether line. The muscular beast bucked its hind legs up into the air trying to detach the trouble that held him. Yad came down to the ground feet first and dug his heels into the dirt. He grinned at his astonished audience then jumped back with his arms wide.

The freed horse fled like lightning across the pen and rammed into the far railing. It fell back on the ground and lay there thrashing its legs in the air in a mock gallop. Then it stopped, quiet, stunned, catching its breath, thinking things over. It rolled and scrambled up on its legs then galloped and bucked about the pen.

"They're a mite spritely 'cause they're bored. It'll work outa 'em," Yadkin said.

Mose stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Yad.

"Mr. Stokeburn, I suppose there's no use askin' where you got these horses," Daniel said.

"If they are horses, Dan'l," Cincinnatus said. "They may just be painted-up rabbits."

"They came from down south," Stokeburn answered with a smooth drawl. The lethargic man spat brown tobacco juice on the ground at Daniel's feet. The frontiersman didn't flinch. He just kept his sharp green eyes pinned on Strom.

"Yad, that true?" Daniel called to the busy man setting the horses loose in the pen. The freed beasts sprinted and bucked about. They gathered themselves into one flow of mane, teeth and hoof then dashed from one side of the pen to the other. The earth shook with the thud of their hooves.

"Yep, Dan'l. Down Georgia way."

"Yad are these ponies Cherokee or Creek?" Mingo asked with a hint of unease in his voice.

"Neither that I know of," Yad answered, "but they ain't mine anyways."

Mingo glared at the team driver, who had just jumped to the ground. Stokeburn brushed the trail dust from his gloves and glared back with deep-set wolf eyes. "You got somethin' to say, Cherokee?" Stokeburn asked.

The Cherkoee apparently didn't.

After the horses were penned, Yad backed the buckboard into the enclosure and pushed their feed off to the ground. The horses sauntered up and proceeded to take to the hay like rabbits to a garden. He unhitched the mules, led them from the pen, and left the buckboard behind. The mules, he tied to a tree. He then wrapped his brawny arm around Cincinnatus and lifted him from the ground. "'Natus, how 'bout some o' that belly bustin' flip o' yourn?"

"Sure thing," the proprietor said nervously, "just put me back on the ground big fella and I'll be happy to oblige."

Yad chuckled as he dropped the skinny tavern keeper back on his feet.

Cincinnatus led Daniel and Mingo back to his tavern for a night of reunion with their old friend Yadkin. Strom sauntered in a few minutes after the friends sat down over a pitcher of flip. Stokeburn sat in the shadows in the far corner of the tavern with his back to the wall. He nodded when the tavern keeper asked him if he wanted ale.

They plied Yad with several pitchers of flip, but the men could not get a clue from him as to who owned those horses or who owned them before they showed up in Boonesborough. Yadkin just explained it had been a rough year and he took this job when it came along and he told the same story before the liquor as after the last drop. The herdsman retired early. He said he would be on the buckboard so he could keep the wolves from his herd.

Strom left the tavern soon after Yad, leaving Cincinnatus, Mingo and Daniel alone and pondering deeply.

The tavern keeper slapped the pocked-marked oak table with his hand. "Why, I plumb forgot to ask Yad what the heck he's been doin' that kept him away from Boonesborough for so long."

"Daniel, there has been a great deal of black market dealings in guns and horses since the war began," Mingo said. "Is it possible Yadkin has become involved in that? Might he purposely deceive you?"

The hunter stuck out his lower lip and drummed his fingers on the table. "I've never known him to before. He might stretch the truth a bit, especially if he's a-tradin', but Yad never was a very good swindler. He has too big a heart."

"Yad ain't lyin'," the tavernkeeper said defensively. "He don't know what Strom Stokeburn's up to. Strom is so good at keepin' mum, his own relatives don't know what he's up to. In fact, he probably don't even tell himself."

Mingo squinted his dark eyes at Cincinnatus. "But what is Yad 'up to', Cincinnatus?"

"Yad'll sell every one o' them critters if he has a mind to. He'll turn grown men into boys bickerin' over those horses and climbin' all over each other to get one. That's how good Yad is. It don't matter what he's sellin'."

Daniel nodded as if agreeing, but he just sat quietly taking another sip of his flip.

"If Strom Stokeburn gets a toe hold in this territory," Cincinnatus said as he absentmindedly refilled his own tankard, "he'll own the whole place in ten years. He'll drive me out o' business in one."

"You've been skinned by him before have ya?" Daniel asked.

"Yep. He can't be touched Daniel. He's cold as ice."

"It seems to me anyone who wanted to buy a horse would want to know who owned it." Mingo said.

"If you're bein' skinned, Mingo," Cincinnatus said, "what difference does it make who walks away with your money?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next morning, as the fog swirled over the emerald river, Cincinnatus strolled out the fort gates and down towards the corral. The horses were sprawled in the tall grass on their chests or flat on their sides, lazily switching their tales in the cool mist. A few stood like sentries. Yad lounged on his back on the buckboard with one knee propped up and one arm under his head. When Cincinnatus approached, a sharp neigh cut loose in the damp air. The horses climbed to their legs and gathered as if the grizzly proprietor was a predator. Cincinnatus stopped moving for fear he would spook 'em into jumping the rails.

"It's all right, 'Natus," Yad yelled.

Yad lifted his tatty tricorn hat from his face and turned his head to grin at the approaching tavern keeper. He put his hat back and crossed his arms as if he had no intention of arising any time soon.

"Since when do you sleep out under the sky without a blanket in a wet morning like this, Carolina E. Yadkin?"

"Since the day I was born, 'Natus."

"You gonna eat one o' those critters for breakfast or should I fix you some eggs?"

"I don't need nothin'."

"Come now, ya gotta eat."

"Ain't got no money nor nothin' to trade."

"Don't worry about that, it's on me."

"I ain't fixin' to be your charity case," Yad grumbled.

"I've dug enough rifle balls and arrows out o' your hide to feed ya if I want to."

The younger man remained silent. The horses whinnied and danced about as if lightning had touched 'em. They cavorted in a capricious romp about the pen.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cincinnatus saw a blond streak headed for the corral. He thought it was a dog until he saw it was on two legs. "Israel Boone, don't you go in there. Those horse's can kill you faster than you can say scram."

The boy didn't hear, or pretended not to, as he squirmed through a crack between two rails and dashed towards Yadkin.

"Yad! Yad! I come to help ya just like I promised."

The reclining herdsman whipped his hat off and searched for the source of the young voice just as a trample of hooves rocked the earth.

Cincinnatus covered his eyes with his hand. After the noise had passed, he peeked through two fingers. He was astounded to see the little tyke standing there unharmed. Yadkin was white as Israel's hair; his mouth formed a perfect 'O'; his eyes were wide as saucers.

The frightened horse-watcher jumped to the ground and scooped Israel up in his arms. He dashed to the railing and deposited the boy on the other side gently as if he was fine china. Then he leapt up on the top rail on his belly and swung his legs over. The brawny fellow panted like he'd just run five miles. Cincinnatus felt his own legs shaking under him.

Yad knelt on one knee by Israel and grabbed the boy's little arms and shook him once. "Israel, don't you ever go into that pen for any reason, you hear?"

"But, Yad—"

"No. No, boy," Yadkin wailed while shaking his head. "Don't you do it again no matter what."

Yadkin's face had hardened into a scowl; his voice was shaky as a rattlesnake's rattle. Cincinnatus noticed how gaunt his friend appeared when his guard was down.

Israel puckered his face and let loose a pathetic heart-wrenching bawl. "I'm sorry, Yad. I just come to help you like I promised. Why are ya mad at me?"

Yad's eyes softened. His blond brows rose. He loosened his grip and mussed the boy's white hair. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, he said, "All right. That's all right, boy. You can help, but just don't go in with them horses."

A wagon pulled by a team of old mules rolled up with a clamor beside the tavern keeper.

"Look here, Israel, I gotta go to work now. You camp here with 'Natus."

Yadkin jumped up on the railing that snaked beneath a large old sycamore tree. He swung his legs about and sat wide-legged and balanced on the rough top rail like a great ochre cat. The horses danced behind him with their long manes flowing, their tails spritely switching the flies away.

The fog began to lift, revealing the multi-colored, no-two-alike things sprinting, bucking and racing about the corral. They'd move together to one side and stand there awhile, then they'd jump with a jolt and run to the other side. Sometimes they split themselves around the buckboard.

Heck Stokeburn strutted up with Meeley and Rancey as a couple more wagons appeared. The men gathered and leaned on the rails until several horses bucked and jostled in their direction forcing the men back. The animals demanded respect. The men eyed the big feller balanced on the rail, but the horses were the show.

The rail sitter reached to his boot and pulled out a pouch from which he extracted a strip of jerky. He gnawed off a bit of the toughened meat and chewed slowly. He smoothed down his blond moustache and studied the crowd. Cincinnatus knew Yad was looking for the gullible--the ones willing to part with their hard-earned cash for something they didn't need. The astute dry good's trader chuckled to himself at how well he could read a snuckerin' in the makin'.

J.D. walked up and lingered with his hands in his pocket studying Yadkin. He and the horse-herder had known each other all their born days. They had learned to walk on the same Carolinian soil and teethed on the same sassafras root. J.D. glared at his boyhood friend with suspicious dark eyes. "I knew that backwoods born Carolina E. Yadkin could never be lost in the woods and et up by a b'ar. I thought maybe a gal had saddled him and rode him back east."

"He sure looks like he's been rode around the mountain a couple o' times don't he fellers?" Rancey crowed.

"Yep, here he is all resurrected lean and mean and sellin' a bunch o' skinny worthless horses," J.D. continued. "You in some kinda trouble ain't ya bro? You cain't fool me. I knows you like I know the back of my own hand."

"I'm herdin' 'em to Virginia for the army," Yad said while avoiding J.D.'s penetrating all-knowing stare.

"The army? Them scrawny things?" Meeley droned.

"Yep. Don't let their size full ya. These horses got spunk. Why there's no match for 'em on a battlefield with cannonballs flyin' and musket's rattlin'. They're as steady as mules, but a good bit more energetic. Why do ya think the army wants these horses and no other?"

The men took in Yad's words while scrutinizing the animals. J.D. dropped his probing study of his errant friend. He moved to the railing to study the hectic herd.

"Yep," Yad continued, "We're headed for Williamsburg. I'm to deliver these horses to our fightin' men that are whoopin' those British back to England."

Rancey guffawed causing his well-fed belly to bounce. "Yad, you sure can tell a good 'un."

The horse-handler's friendly grin disappeared. "What do you mean, Rance? I couldn't lie to Boonesborough folk. You're all family to me."

"Then why'd you run off?" gangly Heck asked eliciting a few more guffaws that might have been termed laughter, but it wasn't clear.

"Well, now that's a sad story for another day, Heck. Why ruin a perfectly good spring day like this with a sad no-account story? Can't you see I'm just a fella tryin' to get back in the good graces of life?"

Israel Boone cut loose from Cincinnatus and darted to Yad's side. He got up on his toes so he could peek over the top rail. "I ain't never seen so many horses all together before. They look small enough for me to ride. Ya think Pa would buy me one?"

Yad chuckled. "Maybe. He know you're here?"

"Nope."

"I reckon he'll guess soon enough," Yad said.

Heck lifted his stained felt hat and scratched his balding head. "So you is thinkin' a sellin' a few, Yad?"

"I might be persuaded to part with a couple. It's a long trail ahead and we're 'bout out o' feed."

"You don't have enough feed for another day," Cincinnatus said. Yad shrugged off the comment.

"What do you want for 'em?" a man hollered from one of the wagons.

"What do I want?" Yad asked. The salesman's bright eyes flashed under lifted blond brows. "Whatever you're willin' to pay, friend."

Not a likely fish for the bait, Rawley Carbunkle had only been in the community for six months. He hadn't even had his first plantin' yet.

"I'll do ya a favor and take the whole lot fer five pence."

A single guffaw arose on the light breeze then chuckles gathered like wind and passed through the crowd.

Yad rolled his blue eyes to the sky but his smile grew wide. "That's a real funny joke mister. Consider yourself the proud owner of the trail mud off their legs. Now who wants to buy a horse? Why look at those muscles. Look at that bay there with the white stockin's. Ain't he spritely? There's not a deadbeat among 'em."

"Ah, there nothin' but wolf-bait. You can see they've never worn shoes. Their hooves are longer than 'Natus' beard."

The crowd chuckled and chortled.

"Generals don't ride wolf-bait," the salesman said with a smirk. "They are each one worth twenty bucks."

"They look dangerous and wild to me," another stranger said. "Who needs a horse that you have to use a bear-trap to catch?"

"Catch one?" Yad said incredulously. He swung his long buckskin legs around and leapt into the corral just as a wave of horses trotted by. Yad feinted and dodged the hooves as he jumped in the middle of the moving mountain of horseflesh. The crowd collectively drew-in a breath and held it.

The animals leapt, bucked and raced each other this way and that. A dust cloud obscured their legs, and Yad, from sight. The man re-emerged on the other side, pushing and kicking the horses about until he had one cornered against the railing--a big black and white paint with periwinkle eyes.

The trapped animal lowered its head, splayed it's front legs and swayed side to side. Its glossy eyes rolled around in their sockets like big marbles. A murmur of concern escaped the crowd. That beast was going to launch a leg and send Yad to the promised land. But it was Yad that launched into the air--like a yellow panther. He wrapped one arm about the horse's pink nose, then the other arm about its neck.

The horse bucked, whinnied, and swung his backend into the railing. Yad held on and lowered the beast's head to the ground. "See here," he yelled from an upside down hanging position, "caught one. This here's Bullet. He's a fine--whoa there you—look how strong this horse is—stay put now you hunk o' – he's the finest fastest piece o' horseflesh this side of the Allegheny--" Yad's arm slipped and the pony's big yellow teeth clamped down on his bicep.

"Ee-ah," the bitten man screamed and fell to the ground on his tail-bone. The aggravated horse galloped off. "You old fly-bait. Just for that I'll sell you to one o' these two-bit farmers."

Yad returned to his post on the rail under the big sycamore. He winced in pain as he nursed his arm and bit his lower lip, but he jumped back up on the railing and faced the crowd with a wide affable smile.

"You gonna catch 'em for us, big fella?" a man asked. Chuckles arose from the crowd.

"Shoot no! You buy one, you get to catch it, but ain't no man goin' into that pen 'til all the sellin's done."

The men scuffled their feet, coughed and continued to eye the horses as they careened and gamboled about.

Cincinnatus chuckled. "What's the matter with y'all? You don't want to buy 'cause you don't know who owns these horses maybe? Cause you don't know where they came from? Where is Strom Stokeburn? Do you know?"

"Cincinnatus, you cranky old goat," unshaved J.D. hollered, "this whole horse-sellin' idea has your britches in a bundle 'cause you ain't gettin' no custom." The whole crowd erupted in merry laughter.

"I tell ya what," Yad yelled as he lifted his worn hat and pushed his long tousled hair from his face, "today, I'll let that one that bit me go for two bucks. Just two bucks for a twenty dollar horse."

Becky Boone appeared out the back gate of the fort headed for the spring for fresh water. Her copper hair shone like gold in the sun. It was bread and pie bake day in the fort. She glanced at the pen and round-up of men, but went on to the spring with her tarred-wood buckets swinging carefree at her sides.

Another wagon pulled up with two old worn-out skinny mules. Clem Hicklebein drove the team. He was a sinewy old man that resembled a muddy weed dredged up from the river bottom. His wrinkled face was etched with a permanent dour expression. Next to him sat his thin wispy wife, Hetty. Under her ragged sunbonnet, locks of gray hair flew about loose from their tether. On her body hung a gray straight hunk of cloth. Hetty sat there looking at nothing and no one had looked back to say hey to her.

"I wouldn't pay two pence for one o' those cattymounts," Heck Stokeburn said. "If I wanted a critter to wrestle, I'd get me one o' them gators from the Florida swamps."

"Hee Haw!" Yadkin threw his head back and laughed with abandon. It brought smiles to every face. "You're right, Heck. What was I thinkin'? I had plumb forgotten what pea-pickin' half-gallons you Kentuckian dirt-daubers are. Maybe it's best I just herd 'em on up to Williamsburg."

Heck squinted his eyes and stuck out his tobacco-stained lips--he resembled one of the horses. "Why, who you callin' scrawny, Carolina E. Yadkin? I can whip you into this Kentucky dirt any day and you know it."

"Well, Heck," Yad said, "If you want a horse that bad, I'll _give_ you that 'un that just bit me. That black and white paint has your name on it, if you'll put up an openin' bid o' two bucks on that bay with the white socks."

The men looked at Heck, then Yad, then back to Heck whose furrowed brow indicated that his brain was calculating.

"On top o' that," Yad said pointedly at Heck, "I'll sell you your second horse for two bucks if no one else bids on it."

"Wow, Mr. Stokeburn," Israel yelled, "you just got two horses for a buck a head."

"I can do the math, boy," Heck growled.

"If you don't want that free one," the Israel continued, "I'll take it."

Becky Boone was on her way back to the fort with her buckets sloshing full. She stopped, put her load down on the ground to rest a spell and watched the pen with narrowed eyes. She shook her head, picked up her buckets and trudged on to the fort.

Clem Hicklebein yelled from his wagon, "Hey you there--young fella on the rail. Did you just give that man a horse?"

"Yep," Yad said.

"You gonna give me a horse?"

"Nope."

"You sold him another horse for two bucks?"

"Yep."

"Then you'll sell me a horse for two bucks?"

"Nope. But I'll give ya a chance to win a horse for three bucks," Yad said with a mischievous grin.

"Clem," Hetty Hicklebein bawled like a ewe, "you got no business buyin' horses. We're on our last five dollars. What are you gonna do with a horse? You don't use the mules ya got."

"Shut up, woman," Clem yelled.

Yad's face glowed with the realization that he had him a bite. Trouble was, Yad didn't know Hicklebein was a worthless wife-beater with five hungry children. Mrs. Hicklebein knitted and weaved nights and sold her goods to Cincinnatus to feed her family. Cincinnatus scratched his head and thought he should fetch Daniel Boone. The tavern keeper's feet wouldn't follow his conscious. Watching Yad skin Hicklebein appealed to the fur-stealing liquor-peddling huckster. He was ashamed to think it.

"Come on, Heck," Yad hollered, "put your bid in and you got one horse for sure, maybe another, maybe not. Will ya give me ten?"

"One dollar," Heck said.

Yad's brows dipped sharply. That rough-edged Carolinian boy could go from cheerful to perturbed to mean in one split second. He never left a doubt in a man or a beast's mind as to his current state of emotion. "One dollar?" he roared as to be heard on the Ohio. "One dollar won't buy its hoof trimmin's." Yad glared narrow-eyed at Heck.

Heck was shamed. "Oh all right, two bucks then."

"Who'll give me three for that handsome sprightly bay?" Yad hollered. "You boys just gonna give it to Heck? Two horses for three bucks?"

Yadkin pulled the pouch of jerky from his boot and carefully examined each piece as if deciding which one to chew next.

"Three bucks," Clem hollered.

"Four," Heck hollered back.

Hetty put her hand on her husband's arm, "Clem, don't you have no decency—"

Hicklebein swatted his wife's hand off his arm. "Hush woman."

The rest of the crowd stood around, glancing now and then at the Hicklebein's, then at Heck. Most of the time they just watched the horses who were at that moment watching the humans.

A flock of sparrows flew low over the pen and alighted with a clatter in the sycamore tree above Yad's head. The wise woodsman scooted out of the shade and into the brilliant sunlight out from under the gay birds. The sun on his back created a halo fringe about his blond head.

The woman slid her pale gray eyes upon Yadkin and stared at him for a long moment. In a quiet but determined voice she said, "Mister you sell my husband a horse with the last of our children's food money, a hex will be upon you the rest o' your livin' days."

"Ah, now misses," Yad said with a sweet angelic face and a choir-boy voice, "don't you want a nice horse to ride to Salem? It'd be a whole lot easier than walkin'. You could ride him sidesaddle."

Hetty glowered at sweet-talkin' Yad.

Clem jumped from the wagon and straggled bow-legged towards the corral. He halted his sullen march right in front of Yad and planted his booted feet wide. He then pulled a wad of notes from his pocket and thrust them violently forward forcing the bold horse-trader to lean back to avoid the fist. "Five dollars," Clem yelled. "Any man that dares to top me will have to beat me over the head."

"All right, mister, five dollars is bid. Looks like you got yourself a fine horse." Yad took the money and stuffed it in the pouch at his boot.

As noon came and went, the sun warmed the horses' backs and the bidders. The proffers rose with the temperature. The ponies were goin' for ten and twelve dollars. Nearly every pony had an owner.

Strom appeared. He stood apart from the crowd, leaned on the rails and crunched on something he pulled from his pocket every so often. The oily stain on the pocket gave evidence of pork cracklin'. Strom had shed his wide-brimmed trail hat for a clean trim tricorn one and looked like a respectable spit and polish merchant. Cincinnatus knew better, though. Strom Stokeburn was as slick and slippery as a red earthworm. If anyone had managed to screw off his head, he'd a grown another.

Yad removed his heavy buckskin coat and hung it on the end of a split rail. He unbuttoned his faded plum-colored shirt and dingy gray undershirt and sent Israel for a skin of water from the spring. Israel returned with the water—and his Pa. Mingo followed, but he kept his distance. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest in the shade of a beechnut.

The auctioneer took the water and poured some on his head, down his back, and down his front then he took a long swallow. When he came up for air, he nodded at Daniel. "Afternoon, Dan'l."

"Afternoon, Yad," Daniel drawled.

"Is there still some horses left?" Israel asked anxiously.

"Sure is boy. See that cream there and that perty chestnut with the white markings over there." The horses spooked for no reason and galloped in a storm of hooves to the opposite side of the corral.

Becky Boone appeared again, this time in search of wood for the oven. Her hair fell a bit looser from the comb she wore in the back. White flour dusted her face and gown. She picked up pieces of kindling and stopped to glare with agitated squinted eyes at the gathered men. Her nose twitched. Her lips puckered.

"Israel," Daniel said, "come away from that pen."

"But, Pa—"

"Come here I say."

Israel obeyed his Pa. Daniel rested his hands on his son's small shoulders as he narrowed his eyes first at Yad, then at Strom. Stokeburn met Daniel's gaze. He lifted his hat as if greeting the frontiersman.

Hetty Hicklebein sat in the wagon with a grim defeated expression. Her gaze focused off in the distance. Her skinny arms were folded across her flat chest.

Clem Hicklebein shuffled up to Yad. "I bought a horse with cash fair and square and I see no reason why I gotta stay here until every one o' those horses are sold. I'm gonna take my horse now."

"All right then, take your horse," Yad said.

"Aren't you gonna catch him for me?"

"Nope. Ain't my horse."

Clem looked at the dry sallow faces around the corral. "Who's gonna help me catch my horse?"

The men avoided Clem's gray clamy eyes. Some coughed and shuffled their feet, but no one spoke.

"Fine," Clem sputtered. "Woman come here and bring that new plowline." Hicklebein lifted the end of a top rail from it's notch and dropped it on the ground. He climbed over the bottom rail. "Hurry up, I ain't got all day to stand around here."

A breeze came up and ruffled the horse's manes and tails. They twitched their ears in response. Cattails rustled along the muddy riverbank. The broad leaves of the sycamore flapped merrily and the tree's big round fruit dropped to the ground. Seed scattered. The sparrows swooped and fluttered down to feast on the bounty.

The woman sighed in despair. She climbed down from the wagon, then walked back and pulled a coil of rope from the bed. Slowly she floated in her straight gray shift to her husband and with a limp hand offered him the rope.

"Come on, get on in here."

"Missus, don't you go in that corral," Yad said in a deep commanding voice.

"She'll do what I tell her," Clem growled.

"Ma'am," Yad said. "Don't you go in there. That's no place for you."

Hetty paused and studied Yad for a long moment as if he was a critter never before seen on God's earth. She climbed over the rail and followed Clem. The horses raised their heads and ears alert to the two humans that had dared to join them. Everyone leaning on the rails glanced away, or at the ground, but Strom chewed his tobacco slowly and watched with squinted eyes.

Clem stomped across the pen. He quickly trapped his horse against the rail but it spooked and skittered off. "Stand in front o' him, woman, lift your arms out."

The woman obeyed. The horse darted straight for her like a deer then stopped like a hummingbird. With bent glossy knees and a shake of its head, it threw its long mane to the wind and jumped away to the side of her.

"Why'd you let him get away?" Clem yelled as he followed the horse across the pen. "Come on over here." The woman floated like a ghost across the pen.

Yad had turned his head to watch the couple over his shoulder. His knuckles were white as he gripped the railing.

"Now you stand there," Clem ordered, "and I'll run him towards you. You herd him back into this corner, hear?"

Hetty put her hands on her hips and waited. The horse came at her again in a sharp gallop. She raised her arms out and did a little side-jump to move in front of him, but once again, the beast swerved away.

Clem stomped to his wife and slapped her across the face.

Yad swung his legs over the rail and leapt into the pen. In three long-legged strides he stood between Clem and his wife. The farmer on tiptoes could only bring his eyes level with the brawny ex-trapper's chest. Yadkin wrenched the rope from the scrappy Clem. "Mister, you ain't bought no horse."

"I sure did," Hicklebein growled as he crouched before Yad like a rabid dog about to strike, but his glazed eyes just studied the rawhide straps wrapped about Yadkin's weave decorated buckskin boots.

Yad pulled some bills from his boot pouch. He swung about and took Hetty's limp hand stuck the money in her palm and closed her fingers over them. "Here missus, you ain't bought no horse. Go on home to your children. Get on out o' here."

The weary wife turned. She walked to the lowered railing and climbed over then got back into the wagon and sat there staring off at nothing.

Clem was stunned into a statue of weathered clay. He glared at Yad, then at his wife, then back at Yad. When the horses started neighing and stomping about, he committed to trotting after his wife. When he got to the wagon, he looked about him shyly then yanked on his wife's boney arm and clawed the money from her hand.

Everyone had been busy watching the Hicklebein's or the horses. A flutter of wings drew their attention. They turned to watch the sparrows leave and saw Strom Stokeburn standing next to Yad under the sycamore tree.

Strom was a short chubby fellow with a big round belly. A wad of tobacco deformed his cheek. A pistol's pearl butt peeped out from the bottom of his paisley patterned vest. Yad towered over him, but Cincinnatus noticed something wasn't quite right with his normally boastful and carefree friend. His shoulders drooped forward, his countenance had swung from cocky confident to woeful despair. A cold chill rose up the wiry tavern-keeper's spine like a blow to the elbow sends a ringing tickle up the arm. He looked over at Daniel who was watching Yad and Stokeburn.

Clem stared with bug-eyes as he trudged back to Strom and gave him the five bills. Strom took the bills in his meaty hand and stuffed them in his coat pocket with the pork rinds.

"I bought that horse with cash," Clem rasped. "Feller you look like you got somethin' to do with 'em. I aim to have that horse."

Stokeburn spat out a brown stream of tobacco and grumbled hoarsely, "How many's left?" He ignored the willowy old man that pleaded with him.

Yadkin stood up alert-like and answered, "Three's left."

"Get the buckboard out o' there," Strom ordered.

Yad retrieved the two mules he had tied to a tree. Then he lowered the railings to make an opening and led the mules across the pen with his long deep violent shadow preceding him.

The horses were real quiet as if they were tuckered out. Crickets and katydids chatted in the reeds beside the rolling river. Evening had come up by surprise. The moon and north star were visible above the horse handler. Everyone watched in silence as Yad harnessed the mules and pulled the buckboard from the pen. He closed up the railings nice and tight then led the mules and buckboard up to the trail that headed south from the fort.

Yad stopped as he passed the Hicklebein wagon. He looked up at Hetty who avoided his gaze. "You can get your money back from Strom tomorrow. Don't you worry none. He said he'd give it back to you." Hetty sat staring off like she didn't hear. Yad trudged on tugging the reluctant mules behind him.

J.D. yelled, "Yad, where you goin'?"

"No place particular. Might go visit some friends up Salem way. My job's done here."

"That money is ballast in Yad's pockets," someone said. "He'll be on a three day drunk to lighten his load."

"Hold up there, Yad," Strom called. "If you're headed to Salem, I could use a lift."

"Suit yourself," Yad said. "You boys take care with those horses now. Don't let 'em get free o' that pen or you'll never catch 'em. Might be you better wait 'till mornin'."

Strom climbed up by Yad. It was dusk. Cincinnatus heard the spit and splat of tobacco then the slap of the reins on the mules' backs. The buckboard wheels creaked and crunched the dry ground beneath them as they turned.

Moonlight had turned the horses to gray phantoms. They were quiet, just shifting and snorting. It seemed like all their pent-up ability to crush a man had vanished.

"Well, we best get to catchin' these ponies," someone said.

"Yad said we should wait till mornin'," a cautious voice whined.

"Oh shucks, I ain't got time. Let's just get it over with while we're all here to help."

"I need a rope," Meeley said. "'Natus, the tradin' post still open?"

Cincinnatus shook his head and awoke to the men crowding around him in search of rope. "Ah, sure, get whatever you need and leave me an I.O.U."

The men scattered. Daniel still stood with Israel. Israel's white hair glowed in the moonlight. "Pa, Yad's comin' back ain't he," the boy asked.

"Don't know, son."

"I wanted one o' those horses, Pa," the boy whined.

"Yep, I know."

Heck walked by on his way to get a rope, "Shoot, I'll need two ropes." He stood silent for a moment then said, "I tell you what Israel, you help me catch that black and white paint Yad gave me, I'll let you have it."

"Really? Pa can I have it?"

Daniel hesitated. "I'll have to catch it for you."

Israel squealed in delight and took off for the trading post to get him some rope.

In ten minutes, the men were practicing with their lassos on each other in the moony light. They gleefully hallooed when they managed a lucky capture.

"You horde o' fools, is there no end to your stupidity," Cincinnatus grumbled.

"Old grouch," some young voice yelled. "You're just mad 'cause you didn't buy a horse."

Mingo walked up. "What are they doing now, Cincinnatus?"

"Mingo, it's as plain as day their actin' like a gaggle o' six-year-olds."

The Cherokee sighed deeply and headed back to the fort.

Rancey hollered above the merry voices, "Listen up. I think we'd do best if we all work at catchin' one horse at a time--form a line and separate that one horse away from the others."

"Sounds like a plan, Rance," Daniel yelled. "Lead the way."

The railings plopped to the ground with hollow thump and the men entered the pen. The horses snorted and gathered in a clump. The men grabbed each other's shoulders and formed a long snake-like human chain. They bore down on the animals. The horses moved in jerks and twists. They raised their heads over the backs of their fellows and whinnied. Hooves thumped the ground as they moved back until there was nowhere to move. Then a loud sharp nicker arose from the mass of fragrant horsehide and the ponies split down the middle and began to sprint to one end of the line and the other end at the same time.

"Head 'em off!"

"Close up!"

The line of men broke somewhere and a wave of long panicked motley gray, black and white faces rushed leaping through the gap and out through the opening in the pen that the last fellow to enter had forgotten to close.

Cincinnatus realized in a panic he was in the path of the freedom-seeking herd and so was Israel.

Hetty Hicklebein still sat quiet in her wagon waiting obediently on her husband.

Clem Hicklebein was the first to disappear in the mass of hot muscle and hair that raged down through the wagons and out upon the open meadow that fronted the fort.

Israel's white head disappeared. Daniel yelled for his son above the thunder of the hooves.

Hetty sat like a lump of gray clay and watched the horses swim by her.

Cincinnatus closed his eyes. He clamped his wiry arms to his side and held his breath as he felt the hot pant and the undulating sides of the beasts brush by him.

In the aftermath, men were sprawled on the ground nursing injured bones and heads. Some got up quick and took off after the horses.

Israel stood in the same spot untouched. "That black and white horse jumped right over me, Pa! He knows he's mine. Let's go get him."

Daniel came running in a panic. "Israel, are you all right?"

"Sure. Let's go. Our horse just trotted through the fort gate."

"Really?" Daniel asked as if Israel was talking about fairies.

Even Daniel had caught the horse fever now for Israel's painted pony.

Everyone ran for the fort gates. Whinnies mixed with human shrieks. As the men raced into the fort yard, they found the horses had taken the wrong turn. The frantic beasts were knocking over cooling bread loaves and pies, upending carts, flattening the blacksmith's canvas awning. The flying awning fell in the hot forge, burst into flames and lit up the whole scene of destruction.

"Put that fire out," someone hollered.

The women tossed and turned, dodging the prancing, screaming horses. All eyes glowed demon red in the firelight. Becky Boone was beating a horse over the head with a bread paddle. The tavern's interior shown like a lighthouse behind the rushing shadows.

"Look Pa," Israel yelled above the din, "there goes our horse into the tavern."

"Not my floor!" Cincinnatus yelled. He beat and pushed aside what he hoped were horses' hindquarters until he reached his place of business. He rushed through the door and found that black and white horse behind his bar with its head in a barrel of molasses-seasoned oats. It lifted its long nose and studied the tavern keeper for a moment. The horse's cheeks bulged, its eyes were wide, it's pink-spotted black lips chewed thoughtfully.

"Why you oat-burning, grass-chomping bundle of mite-bitten mangy hide. Geet out o' here!" The lean man rushed the horse but slipped on a fresh clod of manure and slammed headfirst into the paneled front of his bar.

The horse bumped it's way out from behind the bar knocking all the bottles off onto the floor with one swoosh of its black tail. It whirled about and leapt over Israel's untouched charmed head before it found freedom out the door.

Daniel knelt by the fallen Cincinnatus. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride. Only my pride." Cincinnatus sat up and rubbed his bruised head. The tavern keeper forlornly ogled his hoof-marked floor strewn with broken bottles and spilt liquor. He sniffed and caught the aroma of horse manure rising above fermented corn.

When Cincinnatus made his way back outside still nursing his head, the horses were gone. Every structure in the fort yard lay crushed into fiery jagged pieces. People lay moaning in the wreckage. From far off came panicked whinnies and shouts.

"Golly," Israel said, "those horses are headed down the river trail for our place, Pa."

Daniel's eyes widened. "Not my freshly planted fields?"

Mingo stood at the open gates. "A man is hurt out here, Daniel."

"Who?"

J.D. flew past Mingo and yelled, "It's Clem Hicklebein."

Cincinnatus grumbled, fumed and boiled over. He punched his fists into the air. "I'm gonna get that Yadkin. I'm gonna flail his hide! He aint' never gonna forget this day when I get through with him."

"He and Stokeburn are headed for Salem," the blacksmith said. "Someone better go change their minds and return them here to answer for this."

"Hold on now, boys," Daniel said, "Don't let your ragin' tempers light your rear-ends."

"Dan'l, those horses are tearin' up your newly planted fields."

"Well, now, I'm as mad as anyone, but let's just help those that are hurt first. There's plenty of time to reckon on whose fault this is and who's got to answer for it."

"But Yad and s-Strom s-stinkin' s-Stokeburn are escapin'," Cincinnatus hissed.

"They can't get far with mules and a buckboard," Daniel said.

"Pa, let's get my horse first," Israel pleaded. "He went that way towards the holler."

"Your horse?" Becky shrieked. She opened her mouth in disbelief then slammed it shut. A growl rumbled up deep from within her like a rolling mine explosion deep within the earth. She stared with wide unblinking eyes at Daniel. She had a long bread paddle gripped in one hand. It's business end hovered in the air above her head.

"I'll explain later, Becky," Daniel said. "It was a free horse by the way. Didn't cost us a thing. Come-on Cincinnatus you and Mingo better follow me." Daniel winked at the befuddled tavern keeper then grabbed Israel up under his arm like a log and sprinted out the gates.

"Oh, well," Becky yelled, "if it's free then by all means go out there and get yourselves killed."

* * *

As Cincinnatus, Mingo, Daniel and Israel went down into the holler they were met by a wagon loaded with the Wellit family. Jed's many children sat in the back. His voluptuous wife sat straight-backed by his side.

Just as Jed reined in his mules at the sight of the men running towards him, a black and white horse soared out from the trees. It's front hoofs hit the wagon bed. The wagon came crashing down throwing screaming people everywhere. The young mules bolted pulling Jed in a somersault from his seat as he had the reins tied around his wrists.

The startled horse kicked it's hind legs to clear the wreckage. It leapt off to the other side of the trail and vanished galloping galloping into the vast darkness.

"There he goes, Pa," Israel yelled. "That's my horse."

"Oh, no son," Daniel said, shaking his head firmly, "that is NOT your horse. That's Heck Stokeburn's horse. Come on now we gotta help these people."

Jed was unconscious and pinned under the front axle. Mrs. Wellit stood beside him. "Jed? Jed you wake up. We can't have this. We got plantin' to do." The bold woman stood with her fists on her hips and hollered, "Whose horse was that?"

The question echoed over the hills but went unanswered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Yad and Strom didn't turn up the night of the horse sale. The buckboard was found down by the river. The mules were missing.

Jed Wellit was taken into the fort to be nursed back to consciousness. The poor man had no broken bones but his skull. His face was a mass of splinters, as he had hit the wagon face first before he tumbled under.

Clem Hicklebein was lifted into his wagon and Hetty drove it to the Boone's cabin where Cincinnatus tended Clem's broken leg.

All night long, the whinnies and screams of the horses, and the yelps and hollers of their new owners echoed over the white cliffs that overlooked the Kentucky river. Reports started coming in from far and wide that not one horse had been caught, and not one homestead was untouched by their frantic dash through field and house.

It didn't let up as dawn broke over the mist covered hoof-chomped fields that surrounded the Boone cabin.

Dan returned into his cabin from surveying his damage. He sat down and dropped his face in his hands.

Clem hollered as Cincinnatus set his leg.

"Can't you give him somethin' for the pain?" Hetty pleaded.

"He's unconscious," the amateur doctor mumbled, "he cain't really feel it. That's just a nerve cryin' out."

After breakfast, Becky was cleanin' up the dishes, pots and pans. She banged them about as if she was chasing roaches.

Hetty asked, "Mrs. Boone, do you think Mr. Stokeburn will give me back my money? That young feller, Yadkin, said he would for sure."

It sounded like Becky threw all the pots into the fireplace at once. "I don't know, Mrs. Hicklebein, but it sure won't hurt anythin' for you to ask Strom for your money. I think that would be a very good idea."

J.D. bust through the door. "We got Yad, but you better come quick Dan'l, those angry farmers are gonna kill him."

"And Stokeburn?" Cincinnatus said.

"No sign of him. Yad don't know where he is, or he ain't tellin'. That Yad's as stubborn as a mule."

Becky threw all the pots and pans to the other side of the fireplace. "J.D. there's no need in slightin' the mules."

* * *

Yad sat in the tavern with iron manacles on his wrists and ankles. Sans hunting coat, his disheveled appearance, black eye and busted lip made it clear he had been roughed-up by the unconsummated horse owners before Daniel wrenched him from their angry hands.

In the tavern, the officiating woodsman, magistrate turned constable, sat across the table from the ex-trapper turned horse-trader excused of theft, property damage and bodily harm. Mingo sat at the end of the table at Yad's right. The Cherokee had his whip in his lap. He was impatiently tapping the hide-bound handle on his knee. Cincinnatus sat at Daniel's right, scribbling down every word said. No one else was allowed through the tavern door.

"All right, Yad, let's go over this again," Daniel said.

The prisoner squirmed in his chair.

"Where did you get those horses?"

"Georgia."

"They were _your _horses."

"No they weren't."

"Whose horses were they?"

"Nobody's."

"Do they belong to Strom Stokeburn?"

Yad shook his wavy blond mane. "Nope. He didn't pay for 'em."

"Ah! Then they are _stolen_ horses." Mingo said with wide dark eyes.

Yad squinted his frosty blue eyes at Mingo but said nothing.

"Why don't you wanna answer Mingo, Yad?" Cincinnatus asked.

The prisoner gave the little note-taker a look that clearly meant, "make me, traitor." Cincinnatus swallowed hard and looked down at his notes.

"Are they stolen horses?" Daniel asked.

"No. They're _found_ horses."

Daniel opened his mouth as if to speak then closed it. He lifted one brow and glared at Yadkin instead. "FOUND?"

Cincinnatus and Mingo chuckled.

Yad took a deep breath and exhaled wearily. He stared defeated-like at the table before him. "May I have some water?" he asked.

"Cincinnatus?" Daniel said.

"I'll get it. You want that I should get him a nice broiled steak, too?" the tavern-keeper asked with a chortle. Yad hadn't yet been given anything to eat for half a day. Cincinnatus knew this was Daniel's "Starve Yad into Confessing" gambit. Any other man, he would have doused with liquor, but that wouldn't work on iron-gut Yad.

"Just get the water, please," Daniel said.

The bearded proprietor brought a pitcher of warm water and a tin cup. He poured some water into the cup and sat before the prisoner. Yad raised his hands to the table; the clang of the manacles startled him. He hesitated, but tried again and managed to take a sip from the cup.

"Perhaps you could tell us where those horses were _found_," Mingo asked.

Yadkin ignored the Cherokee.

"Just answer the question, Yad," Daniel asked.

"I done told ya. In Georgia."

"Where in Georgia," Daniel asked.

"On the coast. They're feral horses--never been around people."

Daniel exhaled a puff of hot air from his ballooned ruddy cheeks. "I'm supposed to believe that you and that soft-handed skinner, Strom Stokeburn, captured wild horses and brought them all the way from Georgia to Boonesborough?"

"You can believe whatever you want."

"Yad, it might be important to you what I believe," Daniel said, "when you are facin' Hetty Hicklebein and Vera Wellit in court in Salem. They have both brought suit against you. They claim your wanton carelessness in the sell of those horses caused the mangling of their husbands who are the bread-winners of their respective families."

"T'weren't my fault. I didn't leave that gate open. I warned 'em."

"He has a point there, Dan'l," Cincinnatus offered. "I heard every word he said out there. He warned them to keep that pen closed up and not let those horses loose."

"You brought those horses here to sell knowing they were feral," Mingo said.

"Who was payin' you?" Daniel asked.

Yadkin didn't answer.

"I searched you from hat to boot," Daniel said. "You didn't have any money on you. In fact, you only have the clothes on your back and one dull chipped knife. Where's your gear and your rifle?"

"Pawned."

Daniel studied Yad for a long moment. "There's somethin' serious goin' on if you'd pawn your gun."

Becky Boone opened the door. She carried a covered plate.

"Not now Becky," Daniel said.

Becky whined softly, "Dan, you can't--"

"Just put the plate down at the end of the table there and leave," Daniel ordered. "You need to stay with the Hicklebein's at the cabin. They're the ones that need your care."

The red-headed woman squinted her bright blue eyes at her bossy husband as she dropped the plate on the table. She glanced briefly at Yad, who did not meet her gaze.

Israel pushed his way past his mother's skirts. He stood for a moment scanning the scene. It didn't take him long to figure it out. His face puckered and big tears fell down his cheeks. "Pa, let Yadkin go. You cain't do this to Yad. He ain't some river rat."

"He sure is actin' like one, son."

"No, Pa. Didn't ya see him give Mrs. Hicklebein her five dollars back? Didn't ya see that?"

"Becky get him on home."

Israel jerked his shoulders from his mother's grip. The boy ran to the prisoner's side and wrapped his arms around him. "Tell 'em ya didn't do it, Yad. Just tell 'em and they'll let ya go."

Yadkin's brow darkened. He dropped his head towards the sobbing boy at his chest. Boy and man looked the same but for size.

"Israel," Yad said in a deep low voice, "ain't it about time you outgrew your ole buddy? You don't need me no more."

Israel looked up sharply, his tiny brow furrowed. "What d'ya mean? Don't ya want to be my friend anymore?"

Yad glanced at Daniel then at Becky. He shook his head and glowered at Israel. "I don't need no runt taggin' along behind me and slowin' me down."

The boy drew back and screamed, "You're teasin'. You don't mean that! We're best pals, Yad. You taught me how to use a slingshot. You taught me how to bait traps. You taught me how to piss my name in the snow and how to catch catfish with my bare hands--" With each declaration of Yad's tutorial deeds, Israel pounded Yad with his little fists.

"What?" Becky asked in a biting high-pitched voice. "Hold on there, young man—what did you say?"

Yad's head dropped lower until only the bushel of curly blond hair on the top of his head was visible.

"Why'd you do all that if you didn't want to be my friend?" Israel sobbed.

Yad didn't answer or look up.

Becky pulled Israel out of the tavern. They could hear her voice after she slammed the door. "Israel Boone, you tell me every single thing Yad has taught you."

The men remained quiet for a long while. The sumptuous fragrance given off by Becky's Irish stew filled the air and made every stomach grumble.

"Yad, this is painful for us all," Daniel said. "All I'm askin' is for you to tell me the whole truth so I can help you."

The prisoner swallowed hard and peered up hesitantly under his firm brow.

"I can take you to Salem tomorrow," Daniel said. "but the circuit judge won't be there 'till next month. You'll spend a month in the Salem jail. I don't think they'll hang ya, but they could sure make you work it all off. That might take ten years."

"Dan'l," Yadkin drawled, "the judge is a red-backed son o' King George."

"So? You're not in the army, though I'm thinkin' right now it might be best if you were. They might force you to join some Tory regiment to serve out your time. I cain't see no--"

Yad chuckled.

"Do you think this is funny?" Daniel said perturbed.

"No. The idea of signin' up with the greencoats when I'm already signed-up with the bluecoats is enough to make a dog cry."

"What do you mean?" Daniel said impatiently.

"I was impressed back a year ago," Yad mumbled.

"What?" Daniel barked as he leaned forward in his chair and slammed his long forearms on the table.

Yad jerked his head up and shouted, "I said, I'm already in Mr. Washington's army, sir! A gang of bounty-hunters in Salem grabbed me." The prisoner dropped his chin to his chest. "I…I was…well, I was taken with liquor 'bout this time last year."

Daniel's jaw dropped. "Is that why you just up and disappeared without a word?"

"Yes, sir, Captain Boone! 'Tweren't no bear, just an impressment gang that got your best pal, Yad."

The magistrate shook his head and peered with sorrowful eyes at his friend. "Then you've deserted?"

Yad raised his head and frowned. "_You_ would think that. Mingo here thinks I'm a thief and you think I'm a deserter. Maybe 'Natus'll throw-in murder to my list of offences. Why should I bother to explain?" The thunder of Yad's voice echoed off the tavern's ceiling.

"Yad," Mingo said, "I don't—"

"Give it up, Cherokee, I know."

"Give me a reason to think otherwise, Yadkin," the Cherokee said stridently. "This horse business, and your reticence regarding it--"

"My what ret--? My what?" Yad said with a puzzled angry face as he fidgeted in his seat.

"Dan'l, he needs a full belly and rest," Cincinnatus said. "He'll be better able to explain in the mornin', not to mention take this walk to Salem your proposin'."

The magistrate leaned back in his chair. The big man crossed his arms over his chest. "All right. We have a new beginnin'."

Cincinnatus and Mingo fidgeted; their sighs of annoyance were audible.

"So, Yad," Daniel continued undaunted, "I would really like to know what you've been doin' for the past year and how you came to be herdin' a passel of wild horses through my front yard. Just for old-friendship's sake, would you please share your story with us?"

The chained man rolled his head back to stare at the smoke darkened spider-web crisscrossed ceiling. "One minute I was mindin' my own freedom-lovin' business in the tavern in Salem and the next I was standin' in muck up to my knees salutin' a big burly Maine-born oyster-eatin' Yankee sergeant. He hated me the minute he laid eyes on me and heard my southern drawl. 'Twas downhill from there."

"Did you hurt that man?"

"Nope. I fought for that man. I marched, I ran, I climbed, I ate wormy bread and rancid salt fish for that man. 'Twere his cap-EE-tan I hurt. A man who thought 'twas fun to shoot scared kids in the back."

"You kill him?"

"Nope. They pulled me off o' him and threw me in a provost jail. One bloody cold winter mornin' they took me before General Washington. He said, 'Yad, you're in a bit o' trouble, but I know you're a good man. I want to help you. If you'll take these soldiers and go down to Georgia and retrieve some horses for us, I'll wipe the slate clean and you'll be a set free havin' served your country honorably.'"

"So you did?"

Yad's face turned fierce as he looked at Daniel. "Of course, I did. I knew I could fare better on the trail than in that camp. They took me outside and showed me the five Yankees I was to take with me and they introduced me to Mr. Strom Stokeburn, who was gonna be our bondsman."

"What do you mean?"

"He would pay the Continental Army the value of our hides, and the horses' hides, if we failed to return alive. If we did return, he would receive a sizable reward. He was the only man around who owned a pair o' mules and a wagon, and a little personal army of outlaw skinners to hold guns on our backs."

Cincinnatus slapped the table with his palm. "You mean that conniving Stokeburn wormed his way into the confidences of General Washington himself?"

"Yep."

"Why didn't you tell the general what kind o' miscreant he had put his faith in?" Cincinnatus asked.

"Lowly field sergeants don't tell generals their business."

"I've never known you to hesitate to speak your mind," the tavern keeper drawled.

Yad lowered his head. "I guess I'd done give up 'Natus. I felt like a coon in a trap without a prayer."

"So you headed south?" Daniel asked.

"We headed south in the dead o' winter. No clothes, no shoes, no food—just a promise o' freedom upon our return."

"I suppose those soldiers deserted you quickly?" Mingo asked.

"No, but Yankees aren't cut out for travelin', Mingo. They're just teachers and booksellers and town-spoiled sons o' merchants. One froze to death, one went crazy and tried to jump off a bridge. He slipped from my grip and broke his neck. One tried to desert, but Strom shot him in the back. The two farm boys made it all the way to Georgia and helped me round up those horses."

Daniel's face was gripped with grief. The big man leaned forward on his elbows and rubbed his face with his hands. "Sweet Providence," he said in a strained voice, "someone came here and told us you were dead. Who was that Cincinnatus?"

The tavern keeper thought hard. "'Twas nothin' but fort gossip, but I seem to recall 'twas Heck Stokeburn that first told me."

Daniel growled.

"All those slippery Stokeburn's are probably in on it, Dan'l," Cincinnatus said. "They're a nest o' copperheads that multiple like rats and spread over every bit o' land--harder to get rid of than roaches."

"I don't understand, though," Daniel said, "why you and Strom came here and sold the horses."

"The horses were no good for the army, Dan'l," Yad said. "They were as feral as stray cats. Any sane man could see that."

Daniel looked sheepishly at Cincinnatus and Mingo who both shrugged in reply.

"They attacked domesticated horses we met on the trail," Yad said. "Someone must've fed misinformation to General Washington."

"Then all of those men that bought a horse from you have a right to complain," Mingo said.

"Oh, no, Mingo," Cincinnatus said. "A man let's himself be skinned. It's his own fault. None o' them fools will hold this ag'in Yad. It's just Hetty Hicklebein and Mrs. Wellit that Yad has to answer to."

Mingo shook his head in disbelief.

"Whose idea was it to sell the horses?" Daniel asked.

"Mine."

Daniel puckered and twisted his mouth from one side of his face to the other and back again.

"He had the guns, Dan'l. Lest I let him shoot those Yankees, or some innocent unlucky enough to cross our path, I had to come up with somethin'. I couldn't herd those beasts across Virginia through all those towns. Someone'd get hurt for sure."

The weary magistrate shook his head.

"As soon as Strom saw that I could sell 'em, he started reckonin' on that money as his own and not the army's. We started out with three times as many horses as you saw. Now he's run-off with the money and I don't know where he's gone. Maybe he's headed back to Washington, but he'll only give him the price o' the bonds."

"Yad, you can't let Strom get away with this," Daniel admonished. "You've got to return to General Washington and tell him what happened and the truth about those horses."

Yad dropped his head in defeat. "Dan'l he'll never believe my word over Stokeburn's."

"He will if I'm standin' next to you. Now, I've counted up three dead Yankees, leavin' two live ones; a troop of skinners of unknown number and Strom. Where are all those men?"

"The twenty skinners are on horseback," Yad said. "They were holdin' the two survivin' Yankees as hostages down by the salt lick at Otter Creek. Strom and I headed straight there when we left the fort. He had all the money. He told me to head back to Washington's headquarters. If I didn't show up…"

"Go on, Yad, if you didn't show up, what?"

"The skinners would return here to rob and burn out you and every settler in their path then set fire to the fort while the men are all out fightin' fires. All they have to do is tell General Washington this settlement has turned loyalist."

"Good grief," Cincinnatus said.

"Cincinnatus, take Yad upstairs and put him to bed."

"Ain't ya gonna feed him first?" the tavern keeper asked.

"Hand him that plate."

"I don't want it," Yad said. "Real food makes me sicker than a dog."

"You need to drink the broth from it, Yad." Cincinnatus said as he rushed off to get another tankard. He returned and sieved off the soupy broth into the tankard.

"Daniel, this is serious," Mingo said. "Your family and property are on the line. Why not let Yad go his way and lead those renegades out of Kentucky?"

Daniel shook his head and held his palm up to Mingo to stop the discussion. "Cincinnatus, take Yad upstairs. Chain him to the bed."

"Chain him to the bed?"

"He'll get the foolish idea that runnin' will solve this problem."

"Come on, Yad."

The prisoner stumbled out of the chair and headed slowly towards the stairs.

Cincinnatus took the cup of broth and Yad up the stairs--a slow go with the prisoner's legs hobbled.

When the tavern-keeper returned, he flopped down in the chair across from Daniel.

"He give you any trouble?" Daniel asked.

"Nope. He fell asleep soon as his head hit the pillow. Didn't touch that broth. He must be sick to pass up Becky's Irish stew."

"Yad has a value to Strom equal to that bond he's agreed to pay for him," Daniel said. "General Washington would set Yad's bond high because he's a friend of mine. I figure Strom made sure Yad would get caught and take the beaten over those horses. He plans to retrieve whatever's left of Yad and return him to General Washington."

"Daniel, I know Yadkin is a friend," Mingo said cautiously, "but you cannot be blind to the very likelihood that he and Stokeburn are partners in the business of doing exactly what they demonstrated here. Perhaps they are counting on your goodwill towards Yad."

Daniel furrowed his brow and exhaled. He stood up, stepped to the bar and pulled out a jug of ale from under the counter. As he poured himself a bit of it in a tankard he said, "Mingo, I can understand why you might doubt Yad. You and he have been uneasy acquaintances ever since you first met, but you see Yad's been fightin' all his life—"

"You ever wonder, Mingo, why we call him by his last name?" Cincinnatus said. "It's cause he's the last one."

Mingo lowered his head and studied the grip of his whip.

"He's come a long way to accept you as a friend," Daniel said. "You know what I mean?"

"Of course, Daniel, I could read that story in his eyes when I first met him. It just seems like Yadkin is often involved in some foolish endeavor or another and this fits his means and methods."

"Yep." Daniel upended his tankard, swallowed the remainder then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I won't deny that."

"The way I see it, Yad's a victim of Stokeburn treachery," Cincinnatus said. "'Twas probably the Stokeburns that grabbed him in Salem and sold him to the army. 'Twas probably the Stokeburns that planned to push those wild horses upon the army, knowin' full well they were worthless."

Mingo rolled his dark eyes to the ceiling and smirked.

"Yep," Daniel said as he returned to the table. "Yad's just a victim of being in the wrong place and the wrong time--"

"Oh, please," Mingo moaned. "Listen to yourselves. You two are just fabricating excuses for Yad. If you want to help him let him save himself."

"Maybe Mingo's right, Dan'l," Cincinnatus said. "We've been gettin' Yad out o' one bucket o' slop after another every since we've known him."

Mingo nodded in agreement.

Daniel sat quiet.

"We're gonna have that trial here," Daniel said. "I can't see lettin' those ladies travel to Salem with renegade skinners runnin' loose on horseback. If Stokeburn knows that I'm holdin' Yad here for trial, he'll have to rethink his plans and maybe he'll slip up."

"No, Dan'l," the tavern keeper moaned. "Strom is slicker than wet moss. He's got family too, like Heck, all over the place that he can call on anytime he wants, including a sleazy lawyer up in Richmond. Maybe you need to listen to Mingo. Yad's a hot potato and you need to transfer him to Salem quick then send a letter to General Washington apprisin' him o' Yad's whereabouts and that he is bein' detained."

"The judge ain't there," Daniel said. "He'd have to sit in jail for a month. A courier would never get past Stokeburn's pickets."

"Considering what Yad's been through, I don't think a warm bunk and regular meals would be such a bad deal," Mingo said. "Stokeburn will not kill him if it means money out of his own pocket."

"The Stokeburns are always just above the law," Daniel said. "They don't murder, they don't steal, but somehow they always end up with everyone's mortgages, everyone's land claims, everyone's businesses and men like me and taxpayers have to pay the price by fighting land fraud cases in court. Their latest legal enterprise of opportunity is foraging for the army. You and I would call it stealin' and swindlin', but it's legal. I need to stop the Stokeburns and this is as good a time as any."

Cincinnatus and Mingo exchanged panicked glances.

"Daniel, did you not hear what Yad told you?" Mingo asked. "This Stokeburn has twenty armed men and intends to attack Boonesborough and the settlers just to get Yadkin. Surely, that is not a risk worth taking?"

"It's a risk worth takin' to stop that skinner's career," Daniel said. "We get Strom, we've all but silenced the rat's nest of Stokeburn's that live off fear."

"How do you plan to accomplish this?" Mingo asked.

"Set a trap with Yad as the bait."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next morning before breakfast, Strom Stokeburn and two of his accomplices galloped up to the fort on tall black horses. The men at the gate let them in when Strom said he had slept on it and had change of heart.

When Stokeburn sauntered into the tavern, the patrons waiting for breakfast got up and left. Cincinnatus found himself alone with Strom.

Stokeburn sat down in a chair, leaned it back on it's rear legs, and swung his spurred heels up on the table. After crossing his booted ankles, he pulled out a small silver box—the kind that holds chewin' tobacco.

"Don't you be spittin' that on my newly planed floor, Stokeburn. This is a spit-free tavern." The tavern keeper reached cautiously for the pistol under his bar.

Strom twirled the box between his fat fingers, then opened it and took a large pinch and stuffed it in his cheek. "You don't need that pistol, barkeep. I didn't come here to shoot you. I just want to talk to Sergeant Yadkin. I heard the horse buyers weren't happy with him and you have him locked up here somewhere."

"You can't see Yadkin lest Daniel Boone says you can. He's the magistrate 'round here."

"All right, then, where will I find Daniel Boone?" Strom turned his fat sallow pork-rind-fed face towards Cincinnatus and leered with a lopsided grin that exposed his tobacco stained horsey teeth. His wolf-like yellow eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed.

Cincinnatus swallowed hard and kept his hand on his pistol.

The tavern door opened. Daniel and Mingo entered. "Why, howdy Stokeburn," Daniel said. "Thought you'd be half-way to New York by now."

"I might've been, but Sergeant Carolina E. Yadkin has been detained."

"Yad has some lawsuits brought ag'in him over the sell o' those horses. I'm keepin' him over for trial."

"Is that so?" Strom quipped. "General Washington will be most displeased if his man isn't returned in a timely fashion. You wouldn't want to disappoint the general would you, Mr. Boone?"

"The law is the law, Mr. Stokeburn. I'm sure General Washington would understand, especially if he knew the circumstances--"

"What circumstances would that be, Mr. Boone?"

"Yad bein' forced to sell wild horses in Boonesborough when he was supposed to deliver good horses to the army."

Stokeburn chuckled. "Sergeant Yadkin _forced_ to sell horses? Come now, Mr. Boone. I reckon the sergeant got a little carried away with that auction, but it was all his own doing. What else did he tell you?"

"Not much. Strange thing was he didn't want to tell us where you were even though he was beat and kicked to get him to tell."

Stokeburn chuckled. "I have nothing to hide, Mr. Boone. Maybe we could clear all this up if you let me talk to the sergeant. Perhaps he just misunderstood something I said."

"I'm not gonna let you take Yad. He's my prisoner."

"Mr. Boone, you don't want to mess with the Continental Army. They don't cotton to their orders being--."

"You can go tell General Washington that Yad will be along once he's had his trial and settled any claims brought ag'in him."

"Settle claims?" Stokeburn asked with an ugly face. "You intend to keep him here to work off some claim?"

Daniel shrugged. "I don't rightly know yet. It all depends."

"Well, I got a claim on him now." The meaty skinner jabbed his fat finger onto the tabletop to emphasis his claim. "That boy's worth a hundred pounds to me. That's what I'll have to pay for him if I don't return him."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stokeburn," Daniel said. "I really can't help you with that."

"May I talk to him?"

Daniel shook his head. "I don't see any purpose in that. He'll be kept safe and sound here in Boonesborough until his trial."

"I'm responsible for him. I have a right to see him."

"So are you sayin' _you_ are responsible for the sale of the feral horses and not Yad?" Daniel asked with wide eyes. "If that be the case, perhaps I could see my way to lock you up and let Yad return to General Washington."

Stokeburn furrowed his brow and pointed his fat finger at Daniel. "Listen you backwoods lawbookworm, there's a war going on and it's not going to stop for the likes of you to play pettifogger. I'll give you exactly one week to have your little trial game and turn Sergeant Yadkin over to me. Your flea-court has no dominion over soldiers of the Continental Army."

"And if I don't go along with your schedule?"

"I'm a sworn agent of the Continental Army. Defiance of me is as good as treason." Stokeburn swung his feet to the floor and pushed his heavyset frame up from the chair.

"A sworn agent?" Mingo asked wide-eyed. "I've not heard of that military rank. Is that above a private?"

"Mingo, a sworn agent is sub-altern to a camp dog," Daniel answered, "he musters the camp rats."

Stokeburn growled as he marched to the door and swung it violently open. He stopped for a moment with his back to the room then pivoted on his slick boot heels and spat a wad of brown tobacco on the floor right between two green horse manure stains. He slammed the tavern door behind him.

"Well that's just fine, Dan'l," Cincinnatus said, while shaking his head, "you've gone and made Strom Stokeburn spittin' mad."

* * *

When Cincinnatus went outside to replenish his pitchers of water, Strom and his two friends sat like mastiffs on the bench by the door. They were whittling. Their shavings littered the ground. Meeley, Rance and J.D. hung about watching as if whittling was a spectator event. The tavern keeper went on and got his water from the cistern.

Mrs. Hicklebein came walking in the fort with Becky Boone. Becky had a covered basket under her arm. Cincinnatus greeted the ladies, "Mrs. Hicklebein, Becky, good morning to you."

"Good morning, Cincinnatus. Is Dan in the tavern?" Becky asked.

"Yep."

Mrs. Hicklebein put her hand on Becky's arm. "Mrs. Boone, there's the other man that was with Mr. Yadkin sellin' those horses."

The men loitering about Stokeburn noticed the women approaching. "Ooh, look out Strom here comes Mrs. Hicklebein," Meeley said with a wink to Rancey. "That poor woman only has one big child that can help her plow. Her husband got trampled by those horses. Now she's got to work off her stay with the Boone's by helpin' Becky where she can. Poor thing. You took her last five dollars in the world that she earned herself weavin'."

Strom glanced up at the women but didn't stop whittling. Mrs. Hicklebein hurried a step or two ahead of Becky until she stood right before Strom. His shavings were landing on her dusty creased gray boots. "Mr. Stokeburn, I've come for my five dollars. That Yadkin fella said you'd give it back."

Stokeburn said, "That money belongs to the army."

"The army?" Hetty asked.

"Yep." Stokeburn lifted his tricorn hat and nodded towards the ladies. "General Washington thanks you for your generous contribution to the cause."

"I never agreed to no contribution to no man's cause. That money is all we have in the world to feed our children on."

"Sorry, ma'am. The money is non-refundable."

Becky heard the conversation. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at Strom. "Strom Stokeburn, you are nothin' but a swindlin' no-account liar with a black heart. Shame on you."

Strom's eyes rolled over Becky like a hot iron over a shirt. He lifted his hat and said, "Well, thank you for the kind compliments, ma'am." His companions jittered with laughter.

Hetty started to enter the tavern. Strom jumped up, "Hold up there ma'am." Hetty stopped and looked hopefully at Becky who only shook her red-head.

Strom fished in his tight vest pocket with two pudgy fingers. He came up with a coin. "Here you go misses. Buy the children some rock candy on me." Strom dropped the coin in Hetty's upturned palm. She stared at it for a moment then dropped it in the pocket of her gray apron.

Cincinnatus followed the women into the tavern where they found Daniel and Mingo eating breakfast. No one else would come past Strom to give Cincinnatus custom.

Becky sat her basket on the table next to Daniel. She growled. "Dan, why are you lettin' that Strom Stokeburn and his thugs loiter outside this tavern? Isn't there some law ag'in that?"

"Well, no, but maybe there ought to be."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I don't think he'll hang around for the trial, Becky," Daniel said as he mopped up some gravy with a crumbly bit of biscuit, "seein' that he's the _real_ criminal."

"No man or woman in Boonesborough is gonna bring a lawsuit ag'in a Stokeburn," Becky declared. "What have you done with Yad?"

"He's upstairs chained to the bed," Cincinnatus said.

Becky puffed her reddened cheeks and blew out a hot breath. "Daniel Boone, have you lost all of your Christian sensibilities?"

"I'm keepin' him from Strom. I think that's pretty Christian of me."

"Have you fed him at all?"

"I've tried Becky," Cincinnatus said, "but Yad won't eat."

"Yadkin not eat?" Becky asked. "He must be sick."

"Might be," Cincinnatus said. "He claims food makes him sick."

"I brought him some chicken soup. He'll eat it if I ask him to."

"You're welcome to try, Becky," Daniel said.

Mrs. Hicklebein stood forlorn at the door as if she waited to be invited in.

"Can I do somethin' for you Mrs. Hicklebein," Cincinnatus said.

"I brought some weavin' to sell, Mr. Jones," Hetty said shyly.

"Well come on over into the light and lets take a look at it."

Becky trotted up the stairs with her basket on her arm and disappeared through the door.

"Daniel, what do you plan to do about that man outside?" Mingo asked over his steaming coffee mug.

"He hasn't broken any law, yet."

"Is he not bullying the witnesses by his presence?"

"Not unless he threatens 'em."

"This tavern is usually full to the walls at this time of morning," Mingo said. "We are the only ones here. Is that not intimidation at work?"

"Yeah, I suppose." Daniel swallowed his last bit of egg and pushed his plate away. "The skinners must not be far from the fort."

"They could be at your cabin."

The reluctant magistrate dropped his head and played with his half-drunk mug of coffee.

"Should you not reconsider? Turn Yad over to Stokeburn?" Mingo said. "It does appear that Stokeburn has the upper hand. Perhaps you will catch him another day?"

"You would have me do that to Yad?"

"Daniel, families are in danger. The price on Yadkin's head will keep Stokeburn from killing him."

"A lot of damage can be done to a man without killing him, Mingo."

The Cherokee sighed. "Well, Jemima and Israel are alone with Mr. Hicklebein at your cabin right now. I believe I might serve you best by guarding them."

Daniel nodded. "Thank you, Mingo. I'll bring Becky and Mrs. Hicklebein home."

Mingo clapped his hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Cincinnatus, put this meal on my tab."

"Will do, Mingo."

After the native left, Becky returned down the stairs without her basket but with a dark frown on her face. She stepped quietly to Daniel's side.

"Did he eat?" Daniel asked.

"No. Oh, Dan, poor Yad—what did he tell you?"

Daniel arose, wrapped his arms around his wife, and kissed her forehead. "Becky seems like you were ready to choke him with your own hands after you learned of what he'd been teachin' Israel. You 'bout near grumbled my ear off last night."

"That was just a mother's hen-peckin'. You know I love Yad like he was our children's uncle."

"Yep. How could we not after listenin' to Israel cry himself to sleep last night? Don't worry, I'll make Yad eat that soup, but if I may make a suggestion? When you bring him food again, make it somethin' he doesn't like. It could be that this is his way of punishin' himself and eatin' broiled liver or chitterlin's or--"

Becky chuckled. "Boiled mutton and turnips?"

Daniel grimaced. "Oh yeah, now that would certainly be sufficient punishment for Yadkin."

"Trouble is," Becky said, "cookin' any of those dishes would be punishin' Mr. Hicklebein who can't get up and leave the cabin."

Daniel laughed. "You know, that really wouldn't disturb my Christian sensibilities much."

"Dan," Becky scolded.

"Mrs. Hicklebein," Daniel said, "if you're ready, I'm gonna to walk you and Becky home."

"I am Mr. Boone." Hetty pocketed the change Cincinnatus gave her for her weaving.

"Are you expectin' trouble?" Becky asked.

"Just being prepared." Daniel turned to Cincinnatus. "Bar your door while I'm gone."

"Will do, Dan'l."

Daniel donned his coonskin cap and grabbed his gun at the door. He let the ladies walk out before him. Strom and friends still sat outside with a crowd of the fort's men. Strom glanced up at Daniel.

"There comes Mrs. Wellit with all her children for breakfast," Cincinnatus said as he stood in the doorway.

Daniel studied the newcomers for a moment. "Mrs. Hicklebein, I'm thinkin' we might just have that trial tomorrow right here in the tavern since you and Mrs. Wellit are here. Are you up to it?"

"Yes, Mr. Boone. The sooner I get my five dollars back, the better."

"I'm thinkin'," Daniel said, "it was very helpful of Mr. Stokeburn here to show up just in case Yadkin is found innocent. We can write up a couple of new lawsuits for him, or just add his name to the one's we got. Would you be willin'?"

"I sure would, Mr. Boone," Mrs. Hicklebein said as she glared at Strom.

Cincinnatus chuckled as he allowed Mrs. Wellit and her brood through the door then shut it and barred it.

* * *

Cincinnatus pondered all of the trials of vexation he felt were his sole honor to endure. The grumpy tavernkeeper sat alone in his empty tavern after the Wellits left. He mumbled to himself about the lack of custom. Just another thing he planned to make Yadkin answer for regardless of the outcome of his trial. His private musings halted with a jump when he heard a loud banging on his tavern door.

"Cincinnatus, it's me, Daniel. Open up."

The proprietor arose and unbarred the door. He stuck his head out after Daniel entered and saw that the unwanted guards at the door were gone.

"How's Yad?" Daniel asked.

"Quiet. I was 'bout to go check on him."

"Bring him down here and bring that chicken soup."

Cincinnatus stomped up the steps and soon returned with his charge still in irons. Yadkin glanced over the empty tavern then clanged slowly down the steps. "'Natus has another tavern been built in Kentucky since I've been gone?" he said with a smirk.

Cincinnatus glared with slitted eyes at wise-crackin' Yad. "No. Strom sat outside all mornin' and no one would cross his path."

"Strom was here?"

"Yep, but Dan'l wouldn't let him near you."

Yadkin hopped over and sat down across from Daniel. Cincinnatus put the crock of soup firmly on the table in front of him.

"Dan'l," Yadkin said, "you're endangerin' your family by holdin' me here."

"That's my concern, not yours. Your concern is to eat that soup."

"I don't want it."

"Cincinnatus, pour the broth off in a tankard, please."

"Sure thing." Cincinnatus quickly obliged and sat the tankard of broth in front of the prisoner.

"Yad, drink that," Daniel ordered.

"I don't want it."

"Did I ask if you wanted it?" Daniel said.

"It'll make me throw-up."

"Fine. Then we'll keep tryin' until it stays down. Drink it, now."

Yadkin continued to hesitate.

Daniel stood and leaned forward then planted his oversized hands on the table like he was going to take root. He towered over rebellious Yadkin. "I'm gonna force it down ya, Yad."

The manacles rattled as Yad drug them onto the table. He grabbed the tankard in both hands, held his breath, turned the tankard bottom up and guzzled about half it's contents then slammed the tankard back to the table with the remainder of broth splashing inside.

Daniel smiled. "See--"

Yadkin made a face, he turned from the table, leaned down and threw-up.

"Yad, that didn't even get to your stomach yet," Cincinnatus said.

The prisoner coughed like he was sick.

Cincinnatus retrieved the mop. "That is undigested chicken broth. There ain't nothin' in his stomach." The tavern keeper put his hand on the prisoner's forehead to check for a fever. "He ain't sick."

"It's all in your head, Yad," Daniel said. "You've somehow associated food with illness. I did that with black olives when I was little. I ate a whole jar of 'em and threw up all night after. To this day, I can't look a black olive in the eye without upchuckin'. Now, I'm no doctor, but I figure somethin' like that is goin' on with you. Maybe from whatever they forced you to eat in camp. Come on, try again."

Yadkin lowered his brow and stared at his best friend. Cincinnatus doubted Daniel, too. No one ever wanted to be caught in a Daniel Boone tall tale.

"Dan'l—" Yad said in a low growl.

"No. Come on, we're gonna keep tryin' until it stays down. If you don't drink this broth, I'm gonna force you to eat mutton and turnips. Becky is cookin' it up right now."

"You wouldn't!" Yad exclaimed.

"She's mushing it up to make mutton and turnip soup so as to pour down your throat easier. Cincinnatus keep handy with the mop there."

"You can't make a prisoner eat what you wouldn't eat yourself," Yadkin said.

Daniel cocked one eyebrow and thought on that a moment. "That's a fine bit of reasonin', Yad, but I can if that prisoner refuses to eat. I'm sworn to keep you alive and that's exactly what I'm gonna do. I'll solicit the help of Mingo and Cincinnatus and five of those farmers that you swindled if I have to."

An hour later, Yad had managed to keep down half a cup of broth.

"You better let your customers in for dinner, Cincinnatus," Daniel said. "I'm goin' home for mine. Why don't you take Yad out and walk him around a bit so everyone can see him in chains. Put a notice up on the board outside we're havin' a trial tomorrow at noon. I want everyone that was anywhere near that horse sellin' to be here."

"All right, Dan'l," the tavernkeeper said. "I'll have the chairs arranged and the head table for the magistrate, a chair for the defendant—"

"And a bible," Daniel said as he opened the door.

"Oh, yeah, and the swearin' bible."

* * *

"Does anybody know who those horses belong to?" Daniel asked the assembled men and women of Boonesborough.

Mrs. Wellit stood up and pointed a fat finger at Yadkin. "That rascal there brought 'em here and sold 'em. He took money for 'em."

"We found Mr. Yadkin without a pence on him, Mrs. Wellit. Besides if he sold them, then the rightful owner is the man he sold them to."

"Those horses didn't belong to anyone," Heck Stokeburn said. "They were wild. No man is yet to catch one."

"You think it's important that a man catch one to own it, Heck?"

Horsey Heck just shrugged his shoulders in reply.

"Well, I'm gonna let Mr. Yadkin, the defendant, tell you his story. It will be entered as his testimony to both cases before us today. Swear him in, Cincinnatus."

The tavern-keeper hopped up from his seat and grabbed the old bible from the bar. He stuck it out at Yadkin who sat in a chair by the magistrate's table. "Yad stand up and put your right hand on this here bible."

Yad slowly rose and did as he was told.

"Do you swear to tell the truth before these people and your God?"

"I do," Yad answered.

"All right. You can sit down."

"Tell the people what happened, Yad," Daniel said.

"Eh, from which end?"

"From the time you disappeared from this settlement."

"I was in Salem for some reason I don't recall."

"You carried my letters to Emmy Lou, you lout," Rancey yelled from the back of the room. "She never got 'em and up and married that fancy Williamsburg fella."

Lucy stood up next to her newlywed husband, Rancey, with her fists on her slim hips. "Who is this Emmy Lou that you wrote letters to a year ago?"

"Ah...Lucy…ah," Rancey stuttered. "That was 'fore I met you, honey."

"Oh. Sorry, Rance," Yad said as he realized what had happened, "I plumb forgot. Looks like it's a good thing 'cause Lucy is a whole lot prettier than Emmy Lou."

Lucy turned a pensive face to the prisoner. Yad smiled sweetly. Lucy blushed rosy pink.

"That's all right, Yad," Rance said as he pulled Lucy back to her seat. "You go on. Let's hear your story."

"I had a few too many flips at the tavern. I woke up with a bruised head tied up in the back of a wagon. That wagon took me up north to an army camp where I was sworn into Mr. Washington's army."

The crowd murmured.

"You mean you were impressed by a gang o' thugs?" J.D. asked.

"Yep."

"Go on, Yad," Daniel said.

"Well, I served the good part of a year shot at by redcoats. I might o' shot a few o' them, but I couldn't really tell. They told me one day that I was a sergeant and I was responsible for this company. In the heat of a big battle up around Fort Mifflin, the capt'n of our regiment startin' shootin' these scared boys that were confused and runnin' the wrong way. I tried to stop the man by grabbin' his pistol and he hit me in the head with the butt. Well, I got pretty ragin' mad, as you all know I'm prone to do, and I just laid into him and beat on him until I was pulled off. They threw me in jail for that."

"Sheesh, Yad, what kind o' army are they runnin' up there that would let someone shoot soldiers in the back for bein' confused?" Mose asked.

"That capt'n was a crazy Yankee bootseller that didn't know what he was doin'."

"What happened next?"

"I thought they were gonna hang me, but General Washington got hold o' me and offered to save me from my dishonorable fate if I'd do a job for him. He wanted to send me down to Georgia to retrieve some horses for the army."

"Those horses you brought here?"

"Yep. The thing was, I didn't know 'twas that kind o' horse and I don't think General Washington did either. He assigned Strom Stokeburn to accompany us down there with twenty skinners that were supposed to keep us honest and return us back to the camp."

"Someone the likes o' Washington trusted a Stokeburn?"

"Hey I resent that statement," Heck hollered as he jumped up with his fists clenched.

"Ah, shut up, Heck," J.D. hollered. "Sit down and listen to Yad."

"By the time we got to Georgia, 'twas only three men left, includin' me. 'Tweren't too hard to bait the horses with fresh hay and other provender we foraged off the local plantations. We soon had a hundred of 'em penned."

"Couldn't ya tell then those horses were feral and no good for the army?"

"Of course. That was obvious, but Strom made us catch 'em. I tried to explain to him the horses were worthless to the army, but he had to pay for the horses if he didn't return with fifty head of 'em."

"So what ya do then, Yad?"

"I came up with the idea o' sellin' 'em. I own up to that. Maybe 'twas wrong, but Strom threatened to kill those two Yankees helpin' me if we didn't haul those wild-cats back north. I knew we'd never make it. So, I figured we sell a few here and there and thereby raise the money for Washington to buy some good horses. I didn't see no harm in that, seein' people shoulda been supportin' that army anyhow without expectin' nothin' for it. So we left Georgia with a hundred head o' them critters--"

"Whoa. You only had twenty when you got here."

"That was all that was left of 'em. I sold every one down to those three we left that night with y'all."

"Yad, when you want to do a bit o' skinnin' you sure do it up right." The men chuckled.

Only Hetty and Clem Hicklebein and Mrs. Wellit sat glum and unmoved by Yad's testimony. Becky, Israel and Jemima were bawling their eyes out. Cincinnatus was flickin' a tear from the corner of his eye. If Daniel had asked for a vote for Yad's innocence at that moment, Yad would have been a free man, but Daniel couldn't do that. Nope, he was sworn to uphold the law, such as it was. So he flipped open one of the big dusty law books that sat on the table before him. He turned a few yellowed pages 'till he found a spot he seemed interested in.

"We are considering the case of Hicklebein vs Yadkin," Daniel said all official like. "Mrs. Hicklebein has alleged that Carolina E. Yadkin is responsible for her husband's state of disability and thereby owes her the five dollars her husband paid for a horse. Mrs. Hicklebein would you care to come forth and tell us why you think Mr. Yadkin is the responsible party that has wronged you?"

Hetty stood but remained at the back of the room. Her husband sat glum-faced and gray beside her with his broken leg in a splint and propped up on a chair. Hetty said, "I reckoned since Mr. Yadkin brought those horses to Boonesborough and then proceeded to sell them tellin' all manner o' lies as to their worthiness o' bein' bought—"

"Ma'am, pardon me," Daniel said, "might you give an example of one of Mr. Yadkin's alleged lies?"

"He said I could ride one o' those monsters to Salem sidesaddle."

The room erupted in chuckles at the image of that poor practical farmer's wife ridin' fancy sidesaddle. She always rode her mules full astride with her dress hitched up under her.

Daniel held his hand up to silence the crowd.

"Mr. Yadkin," Daniel said, "do you think it possible that Hetty Hicklebein could have rode one of those horses to Salem?"

"Eventually," Yad answered nodding his head, "after the horse was trained to take a bit and a saddle. The horses can be broke if they're separated from the herd and fed regular and petted."

"In five years," someone said from the assemblage.

"I didn't say _when_ she could ride it to Salem," Yadkin mumbled.

"Pa," Israel said, "Yadkin gave Mrs. Hicklebein her money back and told her Mr. Hicklebein hadn't bought no horse."

"Israel, you can't speak unless you are asked to," Daniel said.

"Just the same, that Stokeburn fella took Clem's five dollars," Hetty said.

"Mrs. Hicklebein," Daniel said, "it's a witnessed fact that those horses caused your husband's injuries but that occurred after the horses were sold to new owners."

"They shouldn't've been sold. It was a wrongful shameful flimflammin' o' honest hard-workin' people," Hetty hollered.

"Ah, Dan'l, I'll plow her fields for her if that's what she wants," Yadkin said.

"Now hold on there, Mr. Yadkin," Daniel said. "Mrs. Hicklebein your case is based on your husband's payment of five dollars to Mr. Strom Stokeburn. Did anyone see Strom give those five dollars to Yadkin?"

"Gee, Dan'l," J.D. said, "We're all sure that Strom took all the money from Yad, 'cause Yad had no money on him when he was caught."

"He could have cached it somewhere, J.D.," Daniel said. "Yad's a hunter, he knows how to store pelts in old trees and hollow logs as well as any of us. Did anyone see the exchange of money between the two men?"

A deep voice from the door said, "I saw Yadkin give Strom Stokeburn all of the money. I could also see plainly that Yadkin was under duress and probably not acting on his own volition by the nature of the exchange between the two men." All heads turned to see Mingo standing tall at the open door.

"You want to swear to those words, Mingo?" Cincinnatus asked.

"It is what I saw."

"Come on over here then, and put your hand on this bible."

After Mingo swore his witness, Daniel said, "Mrs. Hicklebein given that Strom took your money, and there's a witness to that fact, that represents a common law type of exchange that is bindin' even though there was no legal instrument signed by the seller and the buyer."

Hetty furrowed her brow. "I ain't gonna get my five dollars back?"

"Not in less Strom Stokeburn can be compelled to refund it to you. You may consider bringin' suit ag'in him for your five dollars. Mr. Yadkin here though is, in the judgment of this court, not guilty. He did not own those horse's at any time and was only actin' as the agent of the owner of the horses in his auctionin' of them."

Hetty exhaled a raspy breath. "I reckon me and Clem'll head on home."

"Mrs. Hicklebein," Daniel said, "I think it would be best if you stayed here in the fort. Strom might pay you an unwanted visit if he found you all alone."

"Now we turn to the case of Wellit vs Yadkin," the magistrate announced. "Mrs. Wellit would you care to come forth and represent your grievance to the court?"

Mrs. Wellit was seated at the front of the room with Mr. Wellit slumped beside her. His face looked like a pink pin cushion. Their children sat down the line from their father from the tallest to the shortest, five in all. "Mr. Boone, our family was attacked on the night of the fifteenth by a wild and vicious black and white spotted horse that darted out of nowhere and fell upon our wagon sendin' my poor husband to the ground. He was thereby rendered useless and unfit for his work. Our two new mules ran off in a fright and have yet to be caught."

"Why do you believe this to be Mr. Yadkin's fault, ma'am?" Daniel asked.

"Because he brought that horse to this community and skinned some fool into buyin' it who had no business buyin' it as they obviously could not even catch it, much less control it."

"Once again we are faced with determining ownership of the horse. Now we have determined that the man who took the money for the horses, Strom Stokeburn, not present, is by common law the previous owner of the black and white spotted horse. The ownership of that horse was transferred at the sale by his taking five dollars from--"

"No sir, Dan'l, Yadkin gave that horse to Heck," Meeley blirted out.

"You mean no money was exchanged for it?" Daniel said.

"Nope."

"Mr. Boone," Heck said as he fumbled with his hat between his dirty hands, "I'll work the Wellit's land for 'em. I didn't mean to cause no one any trouble."

"Now hold on, Heck," the magistrate said, "if no money was exchanged then there's no way to determine ownership."

Israel jumped to his feet. "Heck Stokeburn gave that horse to me, Pa."

Heck's thin eyebrows rose on his long horsey face. "That's right Israel, I surely did give that black and white pony to you and I meant it."

"That might be, Israel," Daniel said, "but if no money changed hands or no bill-of-sale, you could just as easily think to yourself that you gave that horse to Cincinnatus and it would be just as binding."

Israel furrowed his brow. "Huh?"

"Israel, sit down and hush," Becky said as she pulled her son's suspenders bringing him back into his chair with a thud. "You are not to speak unless spoken to."

"Thank you, Becky," Daniel said.

"Oh that's just fine," Mrs. Wellit exclaimed with her fists on her broad hips. "Then I'm to get no restitution for the damage done to my husband and our property?"

Daniel held his palm up to the threatening woman. "Now hold there, Mrs. Wellit. You can hold out and seek your recompense from Mr. Strom Stokeburn, but there's a law here in this book that gives you some relief. The law says that if an animal belonging to one person commits an offense against another person, or another person's property, then the injured person may receive compensation for such damage in the body of the offending animal. That black and white horse belongs to you now."

Mrs. Wellit's eyes grew wide, her thick lips protruded as she thought on the magistrate's declaration. "What the deuce would I do with a wild horse? It cain't plow our land--"

"Now, Mama," Mr. Wellit said with a hand on her rotund arm.

Mrs. Wellit slapped his hand away. "Don't 'now, mama' me you durn fool. You're the dupe that had to drive those young mules on a dark road with the reins wrapped around your wrists like you got no sense."

The magistrate stood up and everyone else stood up. Daniel held out his hands and motioned to the congregation to be seated. "I hereby declare that Carolina E. Yadkin is free and clear of all charges brought ag'in him in this court and this court is now adjourned. Cincinnatus, free the prisoner."

"Glad to, Dan'l." The smiling tavern keeper proceeded to unlock the manacles about Yad's wrists and ankles but Jemima and Israel had their arms wrapped around Yad makin' it difficult for Cincinnatus to finish his job.

Becky Boone glared at her husband. "Dan, how could you?"

"How could I what?"

"Put irons on Yadkin."

"Becky, I had to treat him just like any other prisoner."

"Why didn't you go lookin' for him when he came up missin' last year?"

"Well…" Daniel glanced at Mingo then at Cincinnatus for help. "That I can't rightly answer for. I shoulda gone lookin'. I don't recollect why I didn't."

"Rebecca," Yadkin said, "Tweren't Dan'l's fault. 'Tweren't anyone's fault but my own."

"Look at him, Dan, he's thin as a scarecrow," Becky whine. "We've got to take him home and feed him."

"We can't do that just yet, Becky," Daniel said eliciting another fiery glare from his wife.

Daniel turned to the assemblage. "Listen now. Listen everyone. We got us another problem to solve. Strom Stokeburn and his gang of skinners are out there. They want Yad and they are threatenin' Boonesborough to get him."

The crowd murmered. "Well we won't let 'em have Yad. What's a few skinner's to us, hey boys?" Meeley asked. The trappers and hunters in the room scuffled but indicated their agreement with various hums, haws and amens. The farmers sat like boulders and pondered Daniel's words silently.

"I thought you all might think that way," Daniel said.

"Daniel," Mingo said, "You need to come outside a moment. There has been a _change _in the weather."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Mingo led Daniel and Cincinnatus to the walkway along the palisade wall near the gate. In the meadow, quilted with blue and yellow wild flowers that stretched south to Hackberry Ridge, stood over sixty head of horses with grass up to their knees. Like Mingo said, it was a change in the weather. The gusty seed-full spring wind blowing down the river valley appeared to favor Boonesborough...and it carried the slight aroma of horsehide.

"Are those the wild horses?" Daniel asked. "I thought there were only twenty of them?"

"It is some of the wild horses," Mingo said. "The horses with army tack I assume belong to the skinners. The others are Cherokee or Shawnee ponies."

Daniel exchanged a glance with Cincinnatus, then the three men grinned at each other.

"Them horses up and collected the skinner's mounts last night?" Cincinnatus said. "That fat Strom is on foot without his fancy black beauty." The tavern keeper chuckled and shook his head.

"That may be," Mingo said. "If you can separate the tame horses from the wild, the tame horses would add to the bait to catch Stokeburn. But…you will also catch Menewa and Blackfish when they come for their horses."

"Yep," Daniel said, "That's like trapping a bear when you only wanted a coyote. Let's get Yad and see what he thinks."

Daniel turned and hollered, "Sergeant Yadkin, front and center!"

Yadkin stepped out the tavern door. "You want me, Dan'l?"

"Yep. Come here and take a gander at this."

Yad climbed up beside Daniel. His eyes grew wide at the sight of his former captives.

"I think those wild ponies took a shine to you," Daniel said.

Yad shook his head. "Dan'l they're gonna run-off all the horses in Kentuck."

"You caught those horses once. Do you think you can do it again?"

The horse herder frowned and thought for a moment. "They really like molasses."

"Don't' need to tell me about that," Cincinnatus said. "That black and white tried to eat a whole barrel of it in my tavern."

"How would you do it, Yad?" Daniel asked.

"Open the pen up and fill it full of grain mixed with molasses. We might get the bigger part of 'em that way, but if one o' those stallions sees a man, he'll bolt and take the rest with him.

"How many stallions are there?"

"'Twere three in the wild group. That black and white is one. He's the lead stallion. You catch him, you've got most of 'em."

"I really want to catch the tame horses then let the wild ones go."

"I suspect the wild ones'll get to the feed and push the tame ones out o' the pen," Yadkin said. "We can collect the tame horses and bring them in the fort."

"Cincinnatus--"

"Sure thing, Dan'l. I'll whip up some molasses and oats."

* * *

Under the cover of darkness, the Boonesborough men rolled twenty barrels of molasses-oats mix out the riverside gate. They dumped the barrel's contents along one side of the pen then opened the railings on the opposite side. They did their work quietly then returned to the fort's wall to watch the horses that stood like dark shadows on the meadow.

A sharp neigh pierced the night air. Several neighs answered the first. The horses snorted and stamped. The black and white horse was clearly visible in the moonlight. He threw his nose up in the air and whinnied then whirled about and walked towards the pen.

"He's goin' for it Dan'l and his mares are followin' him," Yad said.

When the first group of horses made it into the pen, other horses followed. A fight broke out between two stallions creating a noisy ruckus that threatened to ruin the whole plan.

"Come on, boys. Let it go," Cincinnatus whispered.

The wild horses bullied and bumped the tame ones back from the pen.

"All right," Daniel said as he slapped Yadkin on the back, "now we go out and collect those poor tame beggars. Only the ones with bridles. Leave the Indian ponies to go home.

The men scurried down to the ground from the wall and quietly opened the gates. Yad grabbed the reins of the lead stallion among the tame horses and walked him into the fort. The rest of the skinner's horses followed like ducklings on a pond. They were apparently happy to find civilization and people again.

Daniel addressed the assembled men in the fort yard. "Now we'll just let those wild horses do what they will tonight. We best keep everyone in the fort though. I don't want anyone else hurt by those beasts."

* * *

The next morning, the feral horses were gone. They had eaten all of the oats in the pen. The Indian ponies still stood about in the field swathed in early morning fog tinged with the pink of dawn. They were busy breakfasting on wild flowers. The sweet pastoral scene belied the danger it represented. The Indians would be sore and would blame Booneborough for the presence of their ponies at the fort gates.

Daniel climbed the wall at first light to join Mingo, Yad and Cincinnatus. "Yad, I haven't talked with you about what I'm tryin' to do," Daniel said.

"You're tryin' to catch Strom and those skinners."

"Yep. That all right with you?"

"They're dangerous men, Dan'l. They don't value life o' man or beast. The only thing that keeps them from murderin' is their half-respectable relationship with the army. Most o' them are deserters."

"Yep. I know. Can I count on you not to run towards 'em when the fightin' starts?"

Yad looked surprised at his friend. "I'm not one of 'em, Dan'l. Is that what you think?"

Daniel glanced at Mingo.

Yad turned to the Cherokee. "Is that what you think, Mingo?"

Mingo didn't answer.

"Why'd you speak for me in that trial if you think that?"

The Cherokee looked off towards the growing light in the eastern sky.

"I don't want no one gettin' hurt on account o' me," Yad said. "You're all in danger just 'cause I'm here."

"Yad, I'm not doin' this just to save you from Strom," Daniel said. "That man is a menace to everyone on the trails between here and Williamsburg. I wager these horses are gonna be an overwhelmin' lure for him with or without you. I'm gonna give you the choice. You've been cleared of any wrong doin'. You can walk out of here or you can stay and fight with us."

"You know I'd never back down from a fight, Dan'l, but I ain't got no gun."

"I'm gonna rectify that."

"But Mingo don't trust me. Maybe there are others that don't trust me."

"All that matters, Yadkin, is that I trust you. I believe every word you've told me."

Yad was quiet for a long moment. "I'll fight with ya, Dan'l."

"Yadkin, w_hy_ do you want to help?" Mingo asked quietly.

Yadkin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm hopin' General Washington will get that money Strom is carryin'. Is that a possibility, Dan'l?"

"I hadn't thought on it," Daniel said, "but I suppose if everyone that bought one of those wild horses is still willin' to part with his money…"

Yad shook his head. "Those wild horses aren't lame. They aren't bow-backed. There's not a thing wrong with 'em but their preference for their own company. People can tame 'em, or catch their foals, but the army don't have time. They desperately need horses. They need money for food and shoes and clothes--"

Daniel gripped his friend's shoulder then handed him his gun, shot bag and powder horn. "Remember, Ticklicker shoots a little high."

Cincinnatus followed Daniel down off the wall. "I got a lot o' mouths to feed this mornin'," the tavern keeper mumbled.

When the two men entered the tavern they found Becky awakening the children as she prepared sausage and eggs at the fireplace.

A few snorts and neighs arose from the numerous equine inhabitants of the fort yard. Israel jumped from bed, upsetting the full chamber pot at his feet. He ran to the window. "Horses! Lots of horses!" he yelled.

"Israel, quiet, not everyone is awake yet," Jemima said. "Ooh! Ma, look what he's done!"

"We're awake now," a groggy voice grumbled.

Cincinnatus made a sorrowful sound like an injured dog as he retrieved his mop.

"Daniel," Becky asked in a disconcerted voice. "Those aren't the wild beasts are they?"

"No. We had a bit of help from Providence. The wild horses brought us those tame ones, which puts the skinners at a disadvantage."

"They'll come for their horses, Dan," Becky said.

"Yep. I'm countin' on that."

Rancey's wife, Lucy, joined Becky at the fireplace. She pulled a pan of biscuits out of the oven and daubed some butter on top of 'em.

"Is Yad still here?" Becky asked as she poured Daniel a cup of coffee.

"Yep. He's on the wall."

Becky smiled.

* * *

Two days passed without any sign of the skinners.

Cincinnatus was in a fit about how he was supposed to feed the eighty horses in the yard, much less the families hold up in his tavern. They had gone through all the grain he had. The only hay was ten miles away at the Johnston place. Daniel decided they'd put the skinner's horses in the pen so they could graze on the grass and stake out the Indian's horses in the meadow.

With the horses outside, the people remained in the fort, impatient and growing in restlessness.

Rawley Carbunkle yelled up at Daniel from the fort yard, "Boone, I need to go protect my property. Those skinners may get the idea to ransack every home from here to Salem and drive off the livestock. I can't afford to lose my pigs."

"Better to lose your pigs than your brains, Rawley," Daniel answered.

"Ahh. I can defend myself, those pigs don't have a chance."

"He's right, Boone," another farmer yelled. "We can't just sit here like this and let our homes and fields go up in flames."

"They won't do that without their horses to escape," Daniel said.

"Maybe, maybe not," Carbunkle yelled, "but, I'd just as soon not sit here and let them do what they will. The women folk can stay here and guard these ponies while we men check on our property."

"You better do what Dan'l says," Yadkin said. "Those men out there are dangerous."

"Then why didn't Boone keep you out of this settlement?" Carbunckle spat. "You and them dodgers out there are all the same."

Yad hung his head.

"Carbunkle, I might have to bust your head for that," J.D. said.

"Come on and try it you no-account grungy trapper."

"Boys," Daniel yelled, "we can't be sidin' up farmers versus trappers. That'll divide us and give Strom exactly what he wants. We have to stand together. Carbunkle if you go out those gates you're walkin' right into Strom's hands."

"What do you propose, Boone?" Carbunkle asked. "I say we turn Yadkin over to him. That's all he wants."

The other farmers indicated their agreement with Carbunckle.

"Mr. Carbunckle, do you have any agreement from Mr. Stokeburn that if you give him Yad, he'll leave your property alone?" Daniel asked. "Maybe the skinners would leave. Maybe they would return and rob your homes and take your livestock anyway. One thing's for sure is you would be tellin' them that you fear them and will give them anythin' to buy your safety. We've a chance here to stop the Stokeburn's. He wants those horses more than anything else right now. That's easy money in his pocket to drive those Indian ponies to the army up north."

"You can't no more stop the Stokeburn's than you can stop rain, Boone," a farmer yelled.

"The skinners are gonna be too busy tryin' to get these horses to mess with anyone's property," Daniel said.

"The Cherokee and the Shawnee are gonna come lookin' for their ponies," J.D said.

"Yes they surely will J.D.," Daniel said. "And when they come, we'll all be inside these fort walls and the skinners'll be out there."

J.D.'s bushy eyebrows peaked.

"I need everyone's cooperation," Daniel said. "No one can leave this fort and every man has to do his turn at the wall to protect those horses from any takers. The Boonesborough magistrate is confiscating every horse that shows up here until ownership can be determined. Shoot any man or beast that tries to take those horses."

* * *

About noon the next day, J.D swung open the tavern door and yelled, "Jericho Jones is runnin' towards us down the Boone Trace."

"Jericho!" Cincinnatus exclaimed. "Oh my lord, I plumb forgot I sent him to Salem."

Daniel, Mingo and Cincinnatus ran out of the tavern just as the gates opened to admit Jericho. He sprinted into the fort barefoot and dressed only in his pink faded underwear. When he came to a full stop, he bent over to catch his breath.

"What happened, Jericho?" Daniel asked.

"There's some bad men out there, Mr. Boone," Jericho said between pants. "They took everything I had then sent me runnin' firin' at my heels. They told me to tell you they ain't leavin' 'til you send Mr. Yadkin out to them and turn over their horses and tack plus fifty more horses. They got two blue-coated soldier boys tied up as hostages."

"Well," Daniel said, "at least we know where the skinners are—on the road to Salem. Stokeburn's bein' careful to keep that trail open as his escape back east."

* * *

That night another wild stallion showed up with a gathering of tame mares and a few wild mares. The men once again scared off the wild horses and collected the tame ones. Over a hundred horses stood grazing about the fort--some in the fenced pen, some in a roped pen and the rest were staked down where they stood. There were more horses then settlers of Boonesborough.

Then the Indians showed up to claim their horses. First the Cherokee, led by their chief, Menewa.

Daniel invited Menewa and his friends into the tavern to discuss the situation. Mingo joined them as an interpreter as Menewa was reluctant to speak what little English he knew. Cincinnatus served everyone lemonaide.

"Menewa," Daniel said, "I recognize that we have a problem here, but it was not made by man but by beast. Those wild horses stole your ponies."

Mingo translated Daniel's words for the old chief.

Menewa frowned and spoke harshly to Mingo.

"Daniel, he thinks the white man has done some terrible deed and made the animal spirits vengeful. The horses were sent to cripple and maim the Cherokee and drive off their animals."

"Does he know where Georgia is? Tell him they just came up from Georgia."

"I'll try Daniel, but apparently the horses ran through the village the other night and many lodges were damaged and some people were hurt including two children. Luckily no one was killed, but…"

Daniel motioned for Mingo to translate his words.

Menewa shook his head and spoke to Mingo.

"This is what he believes," Mingo said in frustration, "those wild horses carried invisible spirits of evil no-tribe men. Perhaps it would be best to explain to him that physical evil no-tribe men are on the trail and they are responsible for the wild horses being here. You have determined that those horses belong to Stokeburn, right?"

"Good idea, Mingo. That's right, Stokeburn took the money. Go ahead, explain that."

Mingo had a discussion with the chief in his native tongue for several minutes.

"Menewa says he just wants his horses back," Mingo said. "He does not care about any trade that has occurred between white men. He does not care about those men on the trail to Salem."

"All right, then tell Menewa he will get his horses back after I determine which ones are his."

"Daniel?"

"Just tell him."

Mingo translated.

Menewa's face turned red as a pomegranate. He spoke harshly and pointed at Daniel.

"Daniel, he says if you can not determine which ones are Cherokee, he will take all the horses."

"He didn't bring enough men with him."

"He has his warriors hidden all around the fort."

"Would he sacrifice brave young warriors for his women's pack ponies? We'll shoot anyone attemptin' to take those horses."

Mingo translated reluctantly.

Menewa gripped his knees with his hands as he sat stiff in the white man's chair.

Jericho ran into the tavern yelling, "Shawnee! Shawnee are out front. They want a parley."

The Cherokee tribesmen tensed and rose as they recognized the white man's word for their hated enemy. Cincinnatus felt his hair lift off his scalp.

Menewa yelled at Mingo.

"He thinks it's a trap," Mingo translated.

Daniel drew in a deep breath and glanced at Mingo. "What do I do now?"

Mingo shrugged.

Daniel jumped up. "Mingo, you stay here and keep Menewa calm."

"How do I do that?" Mingo asked.

"Teach him checkers."

* * *

Daniel & Cincinnatus ran to the gate with Jericho. Blackfish and his warriors stood outside painted for war. The red feathers atop their heads fluttered in the breeze making them resemble angry birds. Some of the horses in the field pulled at their tethers and neighed as if they recognized the Shawnee.

Chief Dark Panther came forward. "Big Turtle, we have come for our horses that the Cherokee stole in the night."

"Dark Panther, it was wild horses that led off your ponies. No man stole them."

"Those horses were Cherokee spirits."

"No," Daniel said. "I tell you those wild horses are just wild horses."

"We will take our horses and leave."

"Pardon me for being just an old trader, Dark Panther," Cincinnatus said, "but how do you know which horses are yours?"

"We have marked our horses, because the Cherokee are always stealing them. Only we know the mark."

Cincinnatus chuckled and whispered to Daniel, "Some white man must o' taught 'em that trick. You know a lot o' Cherokee ponies are gonna have that mark?"

"Not all of these horses are yours, Dark Panther," Daniel said. "The animal spirits took many horses, some Cherokee, some Shawnee and some white."

"We will only take what is ours. We will only take the horses that bear our marks."

"Why don't you identify those horses you believe are yours first," Daniel said, "and we'll put them all together."

Dark Panther turned and spoke a few words to his men. They scattered and began inspecting the horses. They were examining the horses' ears.

"They must've clipped their ponies' ears," Yadkin whispered from the wall above Daniel.

"Yeah, but how many Cherokee ponies will turn up with clipped ears? Keep an eye on things here, Yad. Send some men out there to lead the Shawnee ponies to the side. They are not to leave with those ponies."

* * *

Cincinnatus hurried to follow Daniel back to the tavern. "Dan'l, I'm havin' visions of red Indian blood all over my tavern floor…"

Daniel stopped. Cincinnatus ran smack into him.

"Cincinnatus, if I didn't know better, I'd say you've turned Cherokee and now believe your floor possesses a spirit."

"Why…noooo…I don't believe any such thing! I just spent hard-earned silver gettin' it planed and cleaned-up and in two days it's right back where it was."

"I'm truly sorry about that."

"Dan'l, my floor's one thing, my whole tavern is another. I can't lose that! If you had just done what Mingo said and turned Yadkin over to those skinners, why they'd be back in Virginia by now." Cincinnatus regretted his words before they even left his mouth. His knees began to tremble.

"Have you spoken your mind full out, Cincinnatus Jones? I sure don't want any pent-up venom keepin' you awake tonight."

Cincinnatus rubbed the top of his balding head. He crossed his arms in a huff unable to muster any more venom though he felt it bubbling in his throat. "I reckon. You ain't gonna listen to no one anyhow."

"I'll listen to suggestions as long as they don't involve throwin' your best friend Yadkin to the wolves. In fact, your desire to get Yadkin out of here with Stokeburn makes me very suspicious of _you_."

"Well…I ne'er…I got nothin' to do with that idjut's comin' back here to rob everyone. Yadkin is _your_ best friend not mine. I just don't see why it is every time there's some man in the world that cain't behave, Boonesborough has to pay the price for it."

Daniel's face dropped like he'd been punched in the stomach. He turned back toward the tavern. Had Cincinnatus finally found an argument the big man couldn't refute? The tavern keeper smiled—though he wasn't real sure what argument he had found.

Mingo and Menewa sat intent over a game of checkers. The other Cherokee stood about and watched. They mumbled excitedly each time Menewa took checkers from Mingo--and he didn't just take checkers--he grabbed them with a thick fist and slammed the captured tokens down on the table as if they played for scalps.

Daniel chuckled. He motioned to Mingo, but his Cherokee friend frowned and shook his head. Daniel had to stand and wait impatiently until the end of the game. When it concluded, Mingo joined Daniel and Cincinnatus.

Daniel arched one eyebrow. "You let him win?"

"Of course--out of respect for my elder."

"I'm your elder and you never let me win," Cincinnatus said.

Mingo smirked.

"The Shawnee say their horses are marked," Daniel said. "I'm lettin' them identify theirs but not take 'em."

"Marked in what way?" the Cherokee asked.

"Not sure. They are lookin' at the horses' ears."

Mingo shook his head. "Daniel, you stand knee-deep in horse manure."

"And we are all standing in it with him," Cincinnatus said with a huff.

The Cherokee nodded.

"Do you think Menewa would agree to a decision by trial?" Daniel asked.

"Do you plan to put Blackfish and Menewa in the same room?" Mingo asked.

"Yep."

"Oh Lord help us," Cincinnatus whined.

Mingo shook his head.

"Tell them it's neutral ground," Daniel said.

Mingo looked back over his shoulder at Menewa who was teaching the game of checkers to one of his younger chiefs.

"Tell him it's a game like checkers," Daniel said, "and he'll win."

"What will you tell Blackfish?" Mingo asked.

"The Shawnee think that the Cherokee spirits invaded the wild horses' bodies just to steal their ponies."

"That's ridiculous," Mingo said.

"Not anymore ridiculous than what Menewa believes."

"Daniel, I beg to differ. Menewa's explanation may sound strange to you, but it is true that white men disturbed the balance of the world by herding those animals from their native land."

"I understand that reasonin', it's the invisible spirits on their backs I'm havin' trouble wrappin' my rational brain around. It's uncomfortably conceited of him to believe that those horses are purposely attackin' the Cherokee and no one else. It would seem that this is a shared problem that we need to come together and solve."

Mingo threw his arms out akimbo and tightened his lips until the dimples appeared on his bronze cheeks. "Who are you putting on trial?"

"Stokeburn."

"But you don't have Stokeburn," Cincinnatus said.

"We'll get the Cherokee and the Shawnee to capture the skinners after Mingo explains to them that we need the horses to trap the evil spirits. Once we have them trapped, they will be free to take their horses and leave."

Mingo took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. With furrowed dark brow he studied his friend for a long while. "Let me be sure I understand. I am to tell Menewa and Blackfish that you intend to detain their horses in order to force evil spirits to magically jump from the horses to the skinners where they rightfully belong?"

"Yep. That's it. See if they think they have to bring Stokeburn and everyone of his followers here in order to free their horses of the evil spirits--"

"Whoa, Daniel," Mingo laughed and put up the palms of his hands towards his friend. "You are trying to use native beliefs to trick natives and you don't know native spirits from banshees and far darrigs."

"You have a better plan?"

"Yes. Let Yadkin leave with the skinners' horses and return the rest of the horses to the Cherokee and Shawnee."

"I second that motion," Cincinnatus yelped.

Daniel jerked his coon-skin cap off his head and slapped it against his leg. He turned his back on his friends and walked a few paces. "If Stokeburn gets the better of Kentucky today, we'll not see the last of him."

"That's your theory," Mingo said.

Daniel turned about on his heel and clamped his hands on his hips. "Stokeburn is a greedy man without scruples. He'll take over Kentucky, He's no mere trickster, Mingo."

"You said yourself he stays within the law. He's not a murderer. To us Cherokee, that makes him just another white man in Kentucky."

"You need to know what's in it for you and the Cherokee?"

Mingo was silent.

"How 'bout this? Whoever returns the skinners and their hostages to Boonesborough, alive, wins all of the horses out there but for fifty head that will go to Washington's army with Yad."

Mingo's brows arched. "A challenge?"

"Yep," Daniel said. "Check my math here Cincinnatus. According to Yad, there are twenty skinners plus Stokeburn and the two Yankees. That's twenty-three men. There are a hundred head of horses. Let's don't make it too complicated. Two horses traded per man brought in--but for Stokley, five horses. That means the Cherokee could walk away with fifty head of horses--"

"Or the Cherokee could lose all of their horses to the Shawnee," Cincinnatus said. The trading post merchant always laid the pros and cons of any trade on the table for everyone to see.

"That's a possibility," Daniel said. "We can't really control how it plays out. The Shawnee may decide to play dirty."

"True." Mingo took a deep breath and pondered the proposal for a moment. "I do not wish to see innocent Cherokee knifed in the back over ponies. It must be one honorable man from each tribe."

Daniel frowned. "One man to bring in twenty-three men?"

"Yes. Twenty-three _white_ men. Do the Boonesborough men participate?"

"They can stay here and guard the horses."

"Then it will be a fair challenge and I will bring you Stokeburn."

Daniel wrinkled his brow at his friend then a slow crooked grin spread across his ruddy face. Mingo matched it. Cincinnatus was shaking all over.

"Come on, time's a wastin'," Daniel said. "Menewa has beat everyone at checkers."

* * *

As Mingo explained the challenge to Menewa, Daniel and Cincinnatus returned to the sorting of horses. Just as they had suspected, the Shawnee had found far more horses with their mark than without.

"Dark Panther, you know that some of those horses belong to the Cherokee," Daniel said.

The Shawnee chief jerked around to face Daniel. "They carry our marks. They are Shawnee ponies."

"I think Menewa will have a difference of opinion with you. He's inside the fort and all of his braves are gathered around out there to collect his horses." Daniel swept his arm wide to emphasis the extent of potential enemy warriors.

Dark Panther threw back his broad shoulders and surveyed the spring-green hills and meadow. "Then we will fight Cherokee for what is ours."

"I've got a more interestin' idea. Will you accept a challenge to pit your huntin' abilities against a Cherokee's? The winner takes horses?"

"I have ears to hear."

"I need those white men out on the trail returned here alive."

"To trade for what is ours?"

"There are a hundred total head of horses here. I'd guess about twenty came from Shawnee camps. We can test that right quick by seeing how many of these ponies will come to Shawnee when beckoned."

Dark Panther swallowed hard. "Tell me the rules of your game, Boone."

Daniel smiled just as Mingo and Menewa and the Cherokee appeared at the gate. "Mingo, Dark Panther's interest has been gained. He wants an explanation of the game."

Mingo explained the challenge.

Dark Panther laughed. "Shawnee can catch lazy white men like plucking ducklings from a pond." Cincinnatus thought the Shawnee chief looked like an angry duck.

"Well, I kind o' figured you'd think that, Dark Panther," Daniel said, "but here's the rub…you can't carry weapons. You and Mingo must leave all your guns, knives…and whip… here at the fort. You have to separate those white fellows from their guns and bring the men here alive and unharmed--or at least with no missing parts or permanent damage. I'll overlook a bruise or two."

"I see no reason not to kill them and use their scalps as proof," Dark Panther said. "Much quicker, and Dark Panther would have many new white scalps--" The young Shawnee chief lifted his chin and guffawed like a honking goose.

"Ah," Daniel said as he looked franticly at Mingo, "Dark Panther, we have to have a ceremony with those men."

"What ceremony?" Dark Panther asked with interest. "A burning perhaps? We haven't had one of those in many moons. The women back in camp will be most pleased--"

"A ceremony to free your horses of the Cherokee spirits," Mingo said quickly. "We Cherokee have the favor of the Nunne'hi today. If those white men are killed before the…ceremony…the horses will forever be possessed and will not stay with you."

Dark Panther frowned and glanced at Blackfish. "Cherokee have such power?" he grumbled. The older chief shrugged like a great red bear contemplating rather to play with its thrashing fish dinner or just eat it.

"Cherokee agree to the same rules?" Blackfish asked. "Each man takes the horses of his choice?"

"Yes, we do," Mingo answered.

"Show your men, Cherokee." Blackfish ordered.

Mingo cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a long wolf call. It echoed over the hills. He did it a second time. The distant rocks came to life. Thirty Cherokee appeared and walked towards the fort.

Cincinnatus retrieved the weapons from Dark Panther and Mingo.

Dark Panther stepped to Mingo. "You have an advantage. You have seen this Stokeburn worth five horses with your own eyes."

"He is the fat short one with yellow wolf eyes that smells of burnt pigskin. I will give you the advantage of time and remain here while you gain the distance to the ridge there." Mingo pointed to Hackberry Ridge.

Dark Panther nodded. The Shawnee chief whirled and sprinted off.

"Take care, Mingo," Yadkin said from the palisade, "Stokeburn is a slimy slippery snake."

Mingo smiled. "How many horses did General Washington need, Yad?"

"As many as he can get," answered Yad with a quizzical look on his face.

"Would you and the two soldiers be able to herd the horses to the army?" Mingo asked.

Yad lifted his blond brows. "If we can herd wild horses, we can surely handle tame ones."

Daniel leaned over towards Mingo and whispered, "Is it honorable to trick a Shawnee with some cockamamie story about Cherokee spirits?"

"It is not a question of honor, Daniel," Mingo said. "It was the Shawnee's belief that the horses were possessed by Cherokee spirits. I, a Cherokee, simply had the power to offer the means of removing the spirits. He would never have believed you."

Mingo sprinted off. Blackfish and Menewa stayed behind to keep Daniel Boone honest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Cincinnatus was sure it was the last night of his life.

As the tavern keeper lay in the dark, he set out to recall all of the memorable events of his sojourn on earth. He realized in a shilling of time--he had a scarcity of memorable events. It seemed to him he had lived his entire life cowering in the dark waiting for Indians to attack. One thing he knew for sure, his crossing paths with Daniel Boone and Carolina E. Yadkin had decided his woeful fate. He punched his pillow.

The residents of Boonesborough had a fitful night. The fort yard brimmed with restless Indian warriors on the brink of bludgeoning their enemies for any small offense. The tense horses outside the fort stomped and pulled at their tethers. Their neighs drew cries from the Boonesborough babies swaddled in the tavern.

_How could he sleep between Cherokee and Shawnee?_ Cincinnatus asked himself. Their snores sawed at his tavern walls. He had to keep one gray eye open.

Gunfire popped in the distance about midnight.

"Sounds like they found 'em," someone whispered in the dark of the tavern.

"Yep," someone else answered.

"Ma?" Israel anxiously called out.

"Israel, go to sleep," Becky answered.

"I can't sleep Ma. What's gonna happen if those bad men come here lookin' for protection? Won't they smell a rat? What if they see the Indians here and start shootin'? Won't they--"

"Oh dear," Becky said with a sigh. "I don't know, Israel. I suppose your father has a plan."

"Do ya, Pa?" Jemima asked.

"Of course I do," Daniel answered. "Now go to sleep."

Cincinnatus had his doubts. He rolled over, accidentally fell asleep and dreamed of dancing horses. He was awoken by a loud ruckus--a volley of gunshots then shouts. The tavern door swung open and Jericho yelled, "Mr. Boone, Stokeburn and his men are here and demand protection."

The room erupted with questions and exclamations.

Cincinnatus stumbled out of bed and lit a lantern. "Shush up everyone. Let Daniel think."

Daniel lifted his coonskin cap from his face. "Jericho, tell Stokeburn he'll get no protection here. If he or his men try to take those horses, shoot at their feet first, then their heads."

"Mr. Boone, are we to shoot at the horses' or--"

"The men, Jericho, the men."

"Yes, sir. I'll tell 'em."

Flint-locks went off…one…two…then angry shouts and nervous neighs. More gunshots followed.

It wasn't long before Jericho returned. "Mr. Boone, he won't listen to me. He wants to talk to you."

Daniel threw back his blanket and sat up. He slipped his boots on. "Come on Cincinnatus."

* * *

"Daniel Boone, what do you think you're doing setting those Injuns on us?" Stokeburn stood with his men before the closed fort gates. The moon shown brightly upon all but it was hard to sort out the long shadows made by man and beast on the meadow.

"I'm the magistrate here, Mr. Stokeburn," Daniel said from palisade. "I need your presence for a trial."

"I'm not agreeing to no trial."

"If you come inside this fort, you are."

"What is my crime?"

"A civil suit has been brought ag'in you for wantin' flimflammin' that removed the breadwinners from two families."

"Those Indians are out for our blood. There must be a hundred of them out there in the dark. How can you do this to your fellow white men?"

Daniel chuckled. "Mr. Stokeburn, the longer you stay here, the closer you are to being captured. I'm not sure what those warriors are gonna do with you boys. They're riled up good over those wild horses running off their herds. They might take your scalps and sell 'em to ole Hamilton the Hair Buyer up in Detroit."

"You mean to say you're just going to let those Indians capture us?"

"Yep. That's exactly what I'm sayin'. I told them they could have the lot of ya. The only chance you got is to make it through the Cumberland Pass before they catch ya. You might make it if you just start runnin' southeast from here and don't stop for three days."

Stokeburn jerked his felt hat off his head and threw it on the ground. "Boone, you're evil."

"And you were the angel that sold me up the river to the army?" Yad yelled.

"That was just business," Stokeburn answered.

"I suppose you were just being kind when you forced me to sell those worthless horses just to make your own pocket fatter?"

"Just business, Sergeant Yadkin. Have you decided to desert the army, boy? Desertion is a hanging offence."

"He's being held here as a witness," Daniel said.

A flurry of owl hoots wafted upon the air from the distant trees. The horses shifted about as if disturbed from some unseen force.

"Boone, in the name of mercy, let us in that fort."

"Sorry, we are closed to all flimflammers and skinners tonight."

"At least give us our horses."

"Nope. Those have been confiscated until the end of the trial to cover any judgments' made in the favor of the plaintiffs."

"Stokeburn, we gotta get, those Injuns are close," one of the skinners yelled in a trembling voice.

"Boys, they're so close they can hear you breathin'," Daniel said with a wide-mouthed grin. Chuckles arose along the wall.

Cincinnatus noticed Stokeburn treading cautiously across the meadow after his men. "Where's your boots, Stokeburn?"

"The Indians got everything. They got our boots, they got our guns, our food…"

The men on the palisades roared with laughter. The skinners kept moving towards the river.

Daniel yelled, "That river's too fast to swim across boys! Maybe you can catch those wild ponies and get a ride out of Kentucky…if you can hang on!"

Daniel and Cincinnatus returned to bed and went to sleep.

* * *

At dawn the next morning, Cincinnatus couldn't believe his old eyes when he saw long-legged Mingo striding across the meadow through the shifting fog. The twenty skinners trailed behind him, tiptoeing and stumbling in their stocking feet, roped together with strands of thick Virginia creeper. The two blue-coated soldiers walked free along side--still in their boots and smiling.

Cheers arose along the wall.

Daniel opened the gate. Menewa and Blackfish stood with him.

The frontiersman greeted his Cherokee friend with a big wide grin. "You didn't hurt anyone did you?"

"Dark Panther twisted his ankle trying to avoid being trampled by wild horses," Mingo said. "Otherwise, no. Blackfish you will find him at the buffalo crossing on the river north of here. The horses came through that narrow trace at full gallop as if spooked."

"Spirits?" Daniel asked with a contemptuous smile.

"Well," Mingo glanced at the two Yankee soldiers, "let's just say I had some spirited help."

Blackfish nodded. He motioned quickly for his men to follow him. They left the fort quietly and horseless.

"Caramingo, winner of all horses?" Menewa asked.

"Yep," Daniel said. "He took all the checkers on the board, Menewa."

Menewa crossed his dark brows for a moment then relaxed in a smile. The chief nodded contently.

"Mingo, what are you gonna do with all of these horses? Get Yad to sell 'em for ya?" Cincinnatus asked with a chuckle.

"I am going to give them to Yadkin."

Daniel raised his brows in surprise.

"One hundred head of horses for General Washington. Gift of the Cherokee people. And before I forget--" Mingo pulled a large bag out of his vest and shook it. It rang with the sound of coins. "I believe this is Yad's handiwork."

"It's not your war, Mingo," Daniel said.

"No, but Yad has found a cause that is bigger than his appetite. I don't want him to fail. I want to help him—as a friend."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Cincinnatus asked.

"I had one unforeseen advantage." Mingo gestured towards the two soldiers. "I freed them first and they graciously assisted me when I told them I was Yadkin's friend. It seems Sergeant Yadkin has earned the respect and admiration of his men as well as General Washington. It made me feel I had been too dismissive of him."

Daniel smiled and nodded.

* * *

"We are gathered this morning to hear my decision regarding the sentencing of those found guilty in the cases of Hicklebein vs. Stokeburn and Wellit vs. Stokeburn."

"Amen!" Rance hollered.

Daniel frowned. "Rance this isn't church," the magistrate growled, "it's a court. "Now, only those called upon to speak are to speak."

"Oh, sorry, Dan'l, I got carried away," Rance said. The room erupted in chuckles forcing Daniel to put his hand up to quiet the unruly spectators.

"A prison for life would be the most appropriate sentence for the offenders gathered here," Daniel continued. "But seein' that we don't have a prison and no funds with which to buy one, I bestow instead the following sentences: I hereby sentence Mr. Strom Stokeburn to the payment of five dollars to Mrs. Hicklebein; then the plowing and seeding of the Boone fields until completion. The remainder of the money he garnered from the sale of the wild horses will be donated to the Continental Army. At the completion of his labors, he will be turned over to General Washington to do as his Excellency pleases with him."

"As for you skinners--"

"Dan'l," Cincinnatus called out. "Don't you forget my floor!"

"Cincinnatus, I'm gettin' to that."

"You skinners will be divided into two separate groups and proceed to undertake the plowing and seeding of the Hicklebein farm and the Wellit farm under the watchful eyes of these two fine soldiers who are skillful New England farmers. At the end of your labors, you will return to the fort and sand and plane this here floor under the supervision of Mr. Jones the proprietor of this much abused establishment."

Cincinnatus hooked his thumbs under his apron and smiled in triumph at the woeful skinners.

"Once you have completed your tasks of retribution," Daniel continued, "you will be turned over to General Washington to serve two years on the front line."

"Who's gonna oversee Strom, Dan'l?" J.D. asked. "Why, he don't even know the back from the front end of a plow."

"Does it matter, J.D.?" Meeley said. "Dan'l can hook him up to either end."

"I was gonna ask Sergeant Yadkin to be Strom's task master. What do you boys think about that?"

"Well, that's a judicious Amen!" yelled Rance.

* * *

"Strom," Yad bellowed, "I want those furrows straight as arrows now, or you'll be doin' it all over again." Yad stood next to Israel who sat on the split-rail fence grinning from ear to ear.

Stokeburn wiped his brow of the profuse sweat that had gathered there under the noonday sun. He glared at Yadkin but slapped the reins on the mule's back and trudged through the thick clod-strewn Kentucky black dirt that covered Daniel's wheat field. His former shiny boots were dull and covered with dust.

Daniel strolled out of the cabin with four cups of coffee. He handed one to Yadkin, one to Cincinnatus and one to Mingo. "Lookin' good, Yad. I couldn't have done it as well myself."

"That's for sure," Yad said.

"If he did it at all," Cincinnatus said.

"All right," Daniel said, "no need to rub my nose in my lack of talent in the farmin' trade."

"Yad, you're not gonna leave us now that we've got ya back?" Cincinnatus said.

"I gotta, Cincinnatus. I gotta return to General Washington and complete my enlistment."

"But that's not fair," Israel said. "You didn't sign up for that willin'."

Yadkin studied Israel for a minute. "Israel, just the same, General Washington gave me a second chance when he could o' hung me. He thinks I'm a good man. You don't want him thinkin' I'm just another Strom Stokeburn do you?"

Israel's pout made it clear he was not happy at all about Yad's talk about leavin'. "You can take me with ya. I'll tell General Washington about it all. I'll stand up for ya."

Yadkin smiled and glanced up at Daniel. "Israel, your gracious offer means a whole lot to me, but I'm not deservin'. Have you forgotten what I said to you before my trial?"

"Ah shucks, Yad, we all say things we don't mean when we are under a dress."

The men chuckled and grinned at each other.

"Israel likes to try out your big words, Mingo," Daniel said.

Mingo bent over and whispered, "I think you mean under_ dur_ess, Israel."

"Yeah, that's what I said," the boy mumbled, annoyed at being the joke.

"Pa," Israel said, "why don't you just write a letter to Mr. Washington and tell him what happened. He'll let Yad stay here."

"Israel, I've offered to write a letter for Yadkin, and go with him back north to clear his name."

"Your Pa's done enough for me, Israel. Don't you think it's about time I done somethin' for myself?" Yad's blue eyes twinkled. His cheeks glowed a healthy pink when he grinned at the boy sitting at his shoulder. Boy and man were exactly the same but for size. "Listen, boy, I ain't gone yet. If we get Strom movin' a little faster, you and I can go fishin' this evenin'. How 'bout that?"

Israel smiled and looked off at Strom who was turning the mule to come back. "Strom, shake a leg dad-burn it. We ain't got time to sit here and watch you all day."

The men laughed, but Becky yelled from the cabin door, "Israel Boone, you don't talk like that to any man. That's Mr. Stokeburn to you young man."

"Ah, Ma…."

"Oops," Yadkin said with a sheepish grin.

Israel jumped down from the fence. "Yad, can you help me catch that black and white horse before you leave? He wants to be my friend. He just can't find me."

"That horse don't wanna be caught," Yad said. "He's happiest runnin' wild and free. You want him to be happy don't ya?"

Israel dropped his chin to his chest.

"Israel," Daniel said, "the horses are grazin' in no-man's land north of the Kentucky river. Son, whenever we go for salt along the Blue Lick, we'll look for your stallion. Maybe we'll fetch home one of his foals."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Israel," Mingo said. "That would be a very special horse indeed that you raise from the time of his weaning."

Becky and Jemima came out on the porch. "Yad are you gonna have dinner with us today?" asked Becky.

Yad glanced worriedly at Daniel.

"You got that mutton and turnips ready?" Daniel said with a grin. "Yum."

"Oh Pa, you hate that as much as Yad," Jemima said. "We fixed Yad's favorite."

"And what would that be, Jemima?" Cincinnatus asked. "It sure does smell delicious."

"Chicken pot pie."

The men looked at each other with wide eyes. Mingo and Yad sprinted for the house. The women scurried inside screaming. Israel started to run after them, but Daniel grabbed his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

"What's wrong Pa? Ain't ya hungry? Yad and Mingo will eat it all."

"Oh, your Ma made enough to feed an army. I can see you're feelin' pretty sad right now because you had your heart set on that horse. But Yad's right. A wild horse is happiest free without the shackles of society. You just have to love 'em when they're with you, mostly from afar so as not to spook 'em, and let 'em go when they want to go."

"You mean like Yad, Pa?"

Daniel raised his brows obviously surprised that his son found a different lesson in his words than the one he intended. "Yep, I reckon that's so, too. You understand then?"

"Yeah, I reckon. I'm sure gonna miss him, but I'm glad we found out he's alive. I kept thinkin' on how that b'ar got him….now I don't have to think on that no more. There's somethin' that's been botherin' me though. I gotta ask ya…"

"Go ahead."

"Why didn't you go lookin' for Yad when he come up missin'? Didn't you think he might be hurt and need our help?"

"Yad and your pa had a row, Israel," Cincinnatus said. "They just about come to fisty-cuffs. Funny thing is I can remember that but I can't for the life of me remember what they were fightin' about."

Daniel groaned. "There was that supply haulin' fiasco when Yad hired those convicts and signed my name to their release papers. I was sorely mad at him for many moons over that."

"Hee hee, you sure were, Dan'l. That's what it was. I guess when Yad disappeared you thought.--" Cincinnatus stopped short and glanced at Israel.

Daniel grimaced. "Go ahead and say it, Cincinnatus—It's the truth--I was glad of it."

"Have you forgiven him for that, Pa?" Israel asked. "Has the good Lord changed your heart as Ma would say?"

"I don't know, Israel. Adult friendships are complicated." Daniel drew in his breath and held his mouth in a tight line as he let the air out slowly. "Israel, I was truly thankful to see Yad alive again, but I had a whole bundle of other thoughts that sort of crowded around and shouted that one down."

Cincinnatus chuckled. "I had the exact same experience upon the resurrection of Carolina E. Yadkin in the fort yard. I have to admit though I had missed that rowdy son-of-a-gun. Yad is a resourceful fella, but sometimes his thinkin' is all cattywhumpous to the way the rest of us think."

"Might be my anger drove him to Salem that day and made him careless," Daniel said. "Might be I need to talk to Yad about that. Israel, would it be all right if I join you and Yad at the riverbank after dinner?"

Israel's eyes lit up like two blue marbles. "Sure Pa! But I'm gonna catch the mostest and the biggest fish."

"We'll see about that. I've got some magic bait."

Israel scrunched up his face. "Let me see it."

"It's invisible."

Israel swung himself around on his heel and head for the porch. "Ah, I ain't afraid o' no magic invisible bait."

"Cincinnatus might you suffer to stay here and keep an eye on Mr. Stokeburn?" Daniel asked. "I'll bring you a big platter of chicken pot pie."

Cincinnatus scratched his chin. "Well, now, I should be servin' my custom back at the fort. I hadn't had much since Yad showed up--"

"Jericho can run that tavern for a couple of hours."

"That's what's got me worried. I'm a workin' man who should be about his work but I reckon I could be persuaded to sacrifice for the greater cause. Mr. Stokeburn do you have any objections to my company?"

Stokeburn grunted past Cincinnatus with the mules. "Just shoot me now," he mumbled between wheezy gasps of air, "so I don't have to look at you no more."

"Well…I ne'er…Dan'l?"

Daniel laughed on his way to the porch with Israel. "Cincinnatus just perch yourself up there on the rail and let him get a good look on every pass. It'll be the easiest work you've ever done."

**The End**


End file.
